Diplomatic Disaster (11)
by Deliverer
Summary: The time of offshoot kingdoms is ending. Bigger nations constantly assimilate smaller ones, and the SI and Arendelle are on the block. Elsa knows where Arendelle will go when the time comes. The SI are torn between Denmark and Scotland who aren't going to wait for them to pick. When a diplomatic mission goes south, what is Elsa willing to do to see Hans brought home safe?
1. Political Climate

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**Angel in the Snow, Demon in the Shadows 11: Diplomatic Disaster**

Political Climate

The ship pulled into Arendelle's harbor late at night. Good. Everything was going to plan then. It docked silently, the rainstorm covering the noise it would have otherwise made. The crew disembarked and headed for an inn. Four guardsmen disembarked, surrounding a solitary, regal figure…

Justic looked around the dock warily then silently gestured for his guards to stay behind. He went towards a public stable and knocked on the master's door. The man came and started upon seeing him, looking shocked. "Majesty!" he exclaimed.

"I need a horse. Or a carriage. Either will do," Justic said.

"Is something the matter at the palace?" he asked. "Are your brother and his wife alright?"

"They are," Justic replied. For now, he inwardly added. "Just… a matter of great importance has come up and I need to speak to my brother."

"Has the King died?" the man asked.

Justic stared at him, eyes narrowing slightly. "You're a worst-case-scenario sort of man, aren't you? No. All our brothers are alive and well unfortunately... That was sarcasm... Just let me pay you and go back to bed. This isn't a matter that concerns you right now."

"Apologies sir," the man replied, flushing a bit and looking flustered.

Justic nodded, gave him the money, then left to select a horse. He took one out and rode back to his guards. "Stay here. Protect the ship. I'll be back by morning. Tomorrow evening at the absolute latest, if things don't go smoothly."

"Your highness, you shouldn't go forth alone," one of the guards protested.

"Arendelle is about the safest place for me to travel alone," Justic replied before tuning his horse and galloping towards the palace.

Frozen

The knock echoed through the castle. Kai, nightcap on and nightclothes, approached the door with a candle and a yawn, sleepily rubbing his eyes and grumbling about late-night strangers coming in from the rain. He reached the door and opened it ever so slightly in case the person knocking wasn't friendly. He started on seeing who it was and quickly pulled open the door. "Prince Justic!" he exclaimed in surprise. "Quickly, come in out of the rain!"

"Thank you, Kai," Justic said, entering swiftly. Kai shut the door behind him.

"What brings you here? Has something happened?" Kai asked.

"Yes, but nothing regarding death," Justic answered. "It's a matter I must speak with the King and Queen about as soon as humanly possible."

"Elsa had a spell earlier in the night. Hans was with her through it all, but both are exhausted now. I dare not try to wake your brother when he's in a temper as protective and defensive as this one," Kai replied.

"Fortunately, I don't have the same qualms," Justic said.

"Your highness, please. Let me give you a room, then warm yourself in a bath or at least dry yourself off. Fall asleep and rest so you can start to feel a little more human again. In the morning I'll speak to the King and Queen about your audience," Kai pled.

Justic sighed. "Very well, Kai. I'll wait for morning," he said. "Early morning, please. As early as you dare to get Elsa or Hans up. Elsa I have no doubt needs rest, but my brother isn't the one carrying a child inside himself so he can damn well get his lazy keister up to speak with his brother," he added with a smirk. "How thrilled do you wager he'll be to see me?"

"Not at all," Kai answered dryly. "I think he'll probably be quite disgusted, actually."

"Figures," Justic said with a sigh. "Five in the morning, ideally. Six if you find yourself uneasy about the idea of waking him at five."

"Six," Kai said. "He may not be carrying the child, but this pregnancy is exhausting him in other ways. He's quite stressed about the whole matter. Poor boy has a panic attack weekly. Sometimes twice a week."

"The parasite needs to man up," Justic said, walking passed Kai. "You do the sex, you get the baby. He knows how the process works. He brought it on himself." Kai blinked after him then smirked in amusement.

Frozen

The next morning Justic was in the library, where he'd told Kai he wanted to be received, scanning through the book titles. He looked over to the desk where Hans obviously spent time writing. He wondered what the latest story, or group of stories, was going to be. The fire was lit and roaring nearby. He went over to it and sat on one of the armchairs, crossing a leg over the other and staring into the flames. The door to the room opened. He turned his head and spotted Hans entering the room looking more than a little put out at the early awakening. "Brother," Justic greeted.

"Brother," Hans responded bitterly. He approached and sat himself in the armchair across from Justic. "What was so important you sailed into Arendelle in the dead of the night and came to us demanding audience that same evening? Thankfully our butler deterred you or I'd be a lot snippier than I'm going to be now."

"A political matter of great importance," Justic said. "Denmark and Scotland are vying over the assimilation of the Southern Isles."

"Caleb of course is not about to be assimilated?" Hans replied.

"What kingdom wants to be assimilated?" Justic replied.

"Why this sudden surge of interest in absorbing the Isles?" Hans asked.

"Don't play dumb, Hans. You can't be that blind to the changing political climate. Unless Elsa's kept you in the dark of course," Justic said. Hans was quiet. "Fledgling and off-shoot kingdoms like Arendelle and the Southern Isles won't survive for much longer at the rate things are changing, but damned if said kingdoms aren't going to fight to the last breath to remain free. Denmark and Scotland both have a claim on the Southern Isles. It's a matter of which one will ultimately possess us in the end. Letters from both the Danish and Scottish kings were sent to Caleb. Basically, they told him to just stay out of their little cock fight and take his kingdom's fate like a man. Caleb, of course, is unwilling to do any such thing. A diplomatic mission was pushed up the agenda. There will be a summit in Eric's Kingdom. It's in its dying throes, all but officially joined to Denmark at this point. His father is holding out, but his father isn't long or this world and Eric, I know, will not be so stubborn as the old king was. He'll make it official not long after he's taken the throne. He's said as much to me."

"As friends are wont to do," Hans said. "You and him used to be pretty close after all."

"We still are, through letters," Justic said. "I've been sent to represent the Southern Isles at this summit, as the ambassador. I want you with me."

"Why?" Hans asked.

"Because it would be entirely improper of me to travel alone with my baby brother's pregnant wife. So, you'll have to suffice. Come along, get a sense of how things are starting to snowball, report back to Elsa… That and your blade at my side will prove invaluable should ill-intent be on Denmark or Scotland's minds," Justic said.

"This is a discussion I'll be more comfortable having in Elsa's presence. I want the both of us in the loop," Hans said. "Give her your pitch when we're holding court, and we'll see where it goes."

"Very well," Justic answered. "But it should be over breakfast. If it's during court, neither of you will get much of anything done. This might take up some time. If I'm wrong, all the better, but if I'm right, you'll have a long lineup of very impatient citizens backed up outside your throne-room doors, and _that_ won't go over well."

"Alright. I'll speak to her and inform her of what's to come," Hans agreed, rising. "You should sleep a couple hours more. You look exhausted."

"I am, but I'll manage," Justic replied. "I may try and nap. We'll see." Hans nodded and left.

Frozen

"You know we can't avoid facing up to this much longer," Hans said to Elsa, seated on the side of their bed and looking at her seriously. She was sitting up against the headboard in her nightdress, blankets up over her lap, and wore a stubborn expression on her face. "Kingdoms like Arendelle aren't going to last much longer. Sooner than later we're going to have to deal with that. There'll be a lot of juggling regarding Norway and Sweden, and our inevitable assimilation into one or the other. Even Anna sees it, Elsa. She's pretty well fully moved in with Kristoff at this point. She's settling into a simpler life with her husband and child, separating herself from the throne because she knows it won't even be here very much longer."

"I know…" Elsa finally admitted with a heavy sigh, looking down. "The time of off-shoot kingdoms like ours is coming to an end… Kristoff is a commoner. He has his ear to the ground more than even you and I, so probably knows better than _we_ do how far along these changes already are. He would have made Anna all too aware of it too. Fine. We'll speak to Justic," she said.

Hans nodded and moved towards her, gently catching her lips before pulling away with a smile. "I'll see you at breakfast," he said to her. She smiled back at him tiredly and he rose, leaving. She sighed, leaning her head back against the headboard and staring woefully up at the roof of her grand palace.

Frozen

"We all know our time is drawing to a close. Monarchies will soon become more a title or show than actual authoritative powers in the world. Within the next century, I'd dare say most all of us will have been reduced to figure-head status. It this changing climate, Arendelle, the Southern Isles, Avalor, all such off-shoot kingdoms, will inevitably be completely swallowed up by the grander monarchies that will remain far longer than we before they too become mere figure-heads. There will be no need for kingdoms like this, or further purpose for their existence. Odds are we will be assimilated sooner than later and turned into Duchies or Dukedoms. You may not submit to Norway—I have little doubt that's the nation you've already decided Arendelle will assimilate into in your heart of hearts—in your time, Elsa, and Caleb may not submit in his or ours, but when your children are on the throne a final choice will have to be made. If not your children, then certainly your grandchildren. That choice will be to be brought to ruin or to join. Eric's kingdom is taking its dying breaths, on the verge of being integrated fully into Daneland. You know, Denmark. It will in only a few more years—one, two, three, maybe even this year if Eric talks his father into it—be transformed into a Dutchy or Dukedom just as we'll eventually be," Justic said tossing out his pitch.

Elsa was quiet, taking his words in quietly with eyes closed. "So, Caleb's plan is…?" she fished.

"I am to attend a summit in Eric's kingdom, a meeting between Scotland, Denmark, Eric's land, and the Southern Isles. It is there that Eric will determine whether or not his kingdom remains independent or consents to assimilation. The Southern Isles, meanwhile, are going to have to attempt to deescalate the situation between Denmark and Scotland, who are hellbent on going to war over our fate. They've all but told Caleb to take his kingdom's death like a man and let it play out as it will. Caleb, of course, is stubborn and has no such intent. My goal there will be to buy the Southern Isles a little more time to be left alone, and by extent calm the pending mini-war between Scotland and Denmark over who will ultimately possess it. When the time comes that we absolutely must assimilate, Caleb will be the one to decide, not some battle fought over us like we were a bone," Justic said.

"And why do you want Hans?" Elsa asked.

"Because his unique… abilities will be key in ensuring we have the upper hand," Justic replied.

"Fire power?" Elsa deadpanned.

"No. He is a mirror, as much as he wants to pretend he isn't, and the sort of mirror he happens to be will be the sort of mirror most useful to this negotiation," Justic replied. Elsa bristled at the words, frowning and eye narrowing a bit. Hans' fingers drummed on the table, a clear sign of agitation. "Like it or not, you know I'm right, Hans. Your chameleon-ing, your ability to reflect a person's nature… it could make or break this for us. If the Southern Isles falls, Arendelle will follow shortly after. If you want there to be any throne or kingdom at all left over for your son or daughter to rule, you know what must be done."

Elsa looked concerned, then turned questioningly to Hans who was staring silently at Justic. "Hans?" she asked gently, reaching up and covering his drumming fingers with her hand. His eyes flickered over to her. "It's up to you," she said.

Hans stared a moment longer before his eyes flicked back to Justic. "Very well," he finally relented. "I can handle a simple diplomatic mission."

"Correct your thinking immediately. Diplomatic missions are never, ever easy," Justic warned, rising. "I want to leave today, Hans. This morning if possible, though I can hold off until the evening. But the sooner we go, the sooner you can return to your pregnant wife."

"I'll pack," Hans said with a heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Emotional blackmail. Of course. Old habits died hard, he supposed. He and his brothers had more or less repaired, yes, but they were still ultimately scum to one another at any given opportunity. Elsa looked slightly perturbed at this, but she didn't comment on it. She simply rose with her husband, linking her arm through his, and together they walked away to go to their room and get Hans prepared for this journey.

Frozen

She perched on the side of her bed smiling lovingly down at her husband, who was kneeling on the floor with a hand on her belly and pressing his lips to it gently. She combed her fingers through his hair softly as he babied the unborn child, whispering sweet nothings to it or singing quiet songs. "Don't be too long, okay?" she said to him. "Dr. Jekyll estimates about two or three months before it gets impatient and wants to come out to play."

"As quickly as I can, I'll return," he promised, looking up at her as she continued combing her fingers through his hair. She leaned down, pressing her lips to his. Eventually she drew back. "I love you," he said to her, standing and shouldering his pack.

"I love you too… Be safe, please," she answered, holding his hands in hers.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" he asked.

She laughed a bit. "I'm sure," she answered with a grin. "The spells will be difficult to go through alone, but I've managed before and I'll manage again. Settle things with Denmark and Scotland then bring back a full report. I need to know what to expect when Arendelle's turn on the chopping block comes, so I can figure out how to appeal it and buy us more time."

"I'll be thorough," he answered, winking.

"In more ways than one I hope," she replied, playing innocent though the sexual innuendo was blatantly obvious. At least to him. He grinned and bent, kissing her again, then left to join his brother.

Elsa watched after him and sighed, bowing her head and shaking it ruefully before turning to gaze out the window. She had Norway and Sweden to deal with for herself. She hadn't told Hans she'd been receiving letters yet, she knew she could deal with them well enough on her own, but they were starting to really press. She could solve part of the problem immediately. She'd determined already that when the time came, it was Norway she wanted Arendelle to integrate with. She would send the letter to the both of them. Something like 'when the time comes, then certainly the land of Arendelle shall become one with Norway, as it is more closely tied with the culture of Norway than Sweden. To leave Sweden will indeed grieve us, but this is the decision I have come to. Worry not, though. The time to integrate is not now'. Yes, that or something like it should pacify any hard feelings. She hoped. She really wasn't inclined to antagonize either country. Elsa rose, going to the window, and stood there to watch Justic's ship depart on its journey taking her husband with it. She wished them well. Perhaps after court today she'd go see Anna and Kristoff and little Gerda. She'd take Kai and big Gerda too. Perhaps Soredamer as well. First, though, she would sit for tea with her new friend…

Frozen

"Only a few months more and out it'll pop," Soredamer said to Elsa excitedly, grinning at her. Her eyes, though, were sympathetic. She well knew what it was to be heavy with a child and not have her husband there to support her through it because he was fighting some battle or other or dealing with some political catastrophe and might not come back.

"Is Anna alright?" Elsa asked. Anna had been very distant as of late, barely able to even look at her for long before she couldn't take it anymore.

"She's coming around," Soredamer assured gently. "She's excited for us to go to lunch with her today. She's determined to actually sit through it all without getting up to leave for some coping time, so you might not want to wear anything that could emphasize your baby bulge."

"I hate how much this is hurting her," Elsa said.

"It must be hard on you both," Soredamer said, nodding. But at least Elsa was occupying her mind with concerns for her baby sister instead of starting to worry about the worst befalling Hans and Justic. Elsa nodded solemnly. Soredamer glanced away. "Did… did he say why this little diplomatic mission came about?" she asked finally. She hated to bring it up to Elsa again, but denying it wasn't going to make it better either.

"Because our days are ending?" Elsa replied with a frustrated sigh, toying with her braid. "I half wonder if there'll even _be_ a throne for my child to inherit anymore when I'm gone… And if there's still a throne in my child's time, there definitely _won't_ be in my grandchild's. Most of us, fortunately, have a set country to belong to when all's said and done. Arendelle will end up either a part of Sweden or a part of Norway, most likely Norway. Denmark and Scotland though haven't resolved the issue of the Southern Isles as gently as Norway and Sweden have."

"Things have changed so much," Soredamer ruefully said, shaking her head. "I won't say it's for the better either."

"I suppose time will tell," Elsa replied, shrugging. She looked at Soredamer. "Have… have you given thought to my offer to bring you with me and Anna to Scotland? To the Orkney Islands?"

Soredamer was quiet, looking away and rubbing her arms. "No," she answered finally. "I'm needed more here."

"Isn't it obvious by now that your mother hasn't returned with you?" Elsa asked gently.

"It isn't… it isn't just that, Elsa," she replied. She looked back at her. "There will only be pain when I see my husband again… Because I'll be here, and he'll be here, and our son… He _won't_ be… But then I suppose we aren't technically 'here' either… We can't go back to see our child in Avalon. We'll be forced to live another lifetime in this unfamiliar place and era, and he won't be there. Every time I looked at Alexander, I would see Clegis. Every time I spoke, he would hear our son, and it's just… It's something I'm not ready to deal with right now."

"But you have a brother waiting for you there, and a father, who would be immensely happy to see you again," Elsa said. "Couldn't you at least consider it for Mordred's sake?"

Soredamer winced. "I'll… try to psych myself up for it," she finally relented. "But don't expect it to happen quickly."

"As long as it will happen," Elsa replied.

Silence fell between the two as they sipped at tea quietly. "Dr. Jekyll has taken quite the interest in Mordred's welfare," Soredamer finally ventured to say.

"I know. And that's great, it is! But it also concerns me," Elsa said.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because wherever Dr. Jekyll goes, Mr. Hyde follows," Elsa said. "Mr. Hyde is the _last_ person you want to cross Mordred in his fragile mental state."

"And the more attachments Mordred makes, the more likely he is to lose one and that will be even more disastrous for him," Soredamer said quietly. "He could never take loss well. It… triggered him. Badly. He just didn't know how to cope. He _couldn't_ cope. Like he was incapable of being able to understand his feelings and emotions and control them. So instead he would lash out. Violently."

"I'll talk to Jekyll next time he's here and tell him not to try and be the boy's friend," Elsa said. "It seems friendship isn't the best answer for everyone."

"I… wouldn't say that necessarily," Soredamer replied, grimacing. Elsa smiled ruefully. "Thank you. For letting me stay here. I can be a lady's maid, you know. I can work for my keep."

"You were the Empress of the Byzantine Empire, before that you were a princess of Lothian and Orkney. Have you done manual labor ever in your life?" Elsa half-teased, smirking.

"I have actually! Worcestershire was good about not letting you be useless. Everyone had to work to survive in my time," she said. "Just some harder than others. It was all hard, make no mistake, just in different ways. My father would have a mental breakdown every half-year or so. Sometimes more, sometimes less. Poor Arthur would have a panic attack weekly at the start, then as he got more accustomed to it, it became monthly. At least when he was young. With experience came jadedness and he dropped it down to one every couple of months!"

Elsa blinked. "Wow… Just wow," she said, smirking in amusement. "The great King Arthur prone to panic attacks. Who'd have thought?"

"Near the… near the end it became an almost daily occurrence," Soredamer ruefully said, looking sadly down at her tea and stirring it a bit.

"I don't blame him," Elsa softly and sympathetically said. She could only imagine how bad things had become in the dying throes of his reign. "Did Mordred inherit those? It seems to me he might have."

"He did," Soredamer admitted. "He could cope with generic ones better than Arthur could, but when things got _really_ bad, he would just go to pieces where Arthur would stay more… rationale and coherent, we'll say."

"I feel a panic attack coming on every time I don't hear from my husband in a week while he's gone," Elsa said, shaking her head.

"He'll pull this off, Elsa. He will," Soredamer assured.

Elsa smiled sadly at her. "We should head out to see Anna now. Kai and Gerda will be coming too," she said.

"Let's go," Soredamer agreed, setting aside her empty cup and preparing to leave.

Frozen

Elsa bounced the eight-month-old baby girl on her lap, grinning down at her sweetly as she cradled Gerda's head. Gerda babbled up at her and every so often would stop and look surprised when she felt Elsa's tummy jump a bit. It wasn't comfortable for Elsa, she'd freely admit, but at the same time it filled her with excitement and joy. The little one was quite active and restless, kicking a lot and moving around regularly like it was growing tired of such a little space to explore. Anna was learning to cook from Gerda in the kitchen. Kristoff was out harvesting ice on the snow-covered peaks so wouldn't be back until either late tonight or even tomorrow. Kai, Elsa, and Soredamer were in the den. In not long Anna came out looking quite proud of herself. "I made soup!" she declared proudly, holding out the pot. "Well, Gerda helped."

"You know you could just eat in the palace," Elsa said.

"The castle isn't my home anymore, Elsa. This is," Anna said, gesturing around the small house. She frowned a bit, looking slightly forlorn. "It's… not much. But it's home! And it's cozy. I'm getting used to the small space. I mean, it wasn't like the palace was going to be home for much longer. We were probably getting in the way there anyway."

"Arendelle won't assimilate in _our_ time," Elsa sternly replied. "Probably not even in the time of our children."

"I know… But I mean, I like this. I like being busy, decorating things the way I want, not having to follow so many rules, having a stable routine… As long as some excitement is sprinkled in here and there, I'm good! And with Kristoff around there's a lot of excitement. Sometimes I head out with him, up the mountains or into the forest. We bring Gerda too. She loves it. Kristoff gets kind of wound up and paranoid, not a safe profession and stuff like that, but we're careful. Especially when she's around. So… Hans is away, huh?"

"Diplomatic mission for the Southern Isles," she answered.

"He's not _of_ the Southern Isles anymore," Anna said.

"As long as Arendelle and the Isles are allied, yes, he is," Elsa answered. "Both of our nations are in this together. That's how alliances work."

"I guess," Anna said, taking the baby from her sister to breastfeed it. Kai stood and walked away to stand beside Gerda, who lingered in the doorway of the kitchen smiling fondly at the two sisters. Anna looked over at Soredamer. "So, are you liking my room?" she asked.

"It feels strange sleeping there. It's yours, not mine. The room of a princess. I'm little more than a handmaiden here," she answered.

"You're an Empress! You technically outrank Elsa," Anna said.

"I _was_ an empress," she corrected. "And things aren't always 'technical'. My husband technically outranked Arthur. Arthur still had more power than he did, in the end. The British Empire was beginning to take over everything, slowly but surely. In our time, it was already more powerful than the Byzantine Empire. In our time it was in the process of driving out a lot of the _Roman_ Empire from its borders. There was a good deal of strife between Arthur and the Roman Emperor and a war or two even. Arthur probably could have made a bid for the title of Emperor, and he would have had a right to it too, but Emperor Arthur doesn't flow as well as King Arthur," Soredamer said, grinning a bit.

"Well, your room must have still been even better than mine," Anna said. Soredamer smirked but didn't confirm or deny that.

"Dr. Jekyll is heading to the Orkney Islands soon," Elsa said. "For your brother's sake," she added to Soredamer. "As I've said, if… if you do decide you want to go with him after all…" She trailed off.

Soredamer was quiet, staring at her hands in her lap. "Not yet," she finally replied. "Things are… hard to figure out right now. On top of my other reasons for not going, this game with Mordred needs to be played very, very carefully. Jekyll's already risking a lot visiting there regularly. It could cost your husband everything in the future. My going there too at the same time as Jekyll? Seeing me might just make my brother more determined to reach Arendelle again, and if he reaches Arendelle he sees Hans, and if he sees Hans then whatever progress has been made with him is out the window. Besides…"

"You want to be extra sure no one else arrived here too," Anna finished for her. "We know. But I think it's become pretty obvious no one _has_."

"You'd think," Soredamer replied. "You're probably right too, but better safe than sorry."

"If one of them did arrive here as well, which one would you rather it be?" Anna asked.

"That's a hard question to answer. They were both pieces of work in their own ways. When it came to which was deadliest, there was no contest. Morgana was among the most powerful enemies the Round Table ever faced, if not the topper. Morgause, though, was more dangerous in her psychological games. Games which gave rise to my corrupted and black-hearted brother. Mordred was deadlier than both Morgan and Morgause _combined_, albeit in a more insidious manner than Morgan was. Power-wise and headache-wise, Morgan took the cake. Her name was spoken in dread. Casualty-wise, Morgause was far and away the worst by extension of Mordred," Soredamer said.

"So what's complicated?" Anna asked.

"The question _should_ be whether I'd rather have Mordred or Morgan as an enemy, and I'd rather have Morgan. Except after Morgause died, Morgan took up the mantle of corrupting and twisting Mordred. She succeeded in it for a good long while after her sister died, before she lost control of him too. If either my mother or aunt have made it back somehow, I hope it's my aunt Morgan and that she doesn't return hell-bent on working her manipulations on my brother. I hope she instead comes back as she was when she 'passed', reconciled to Arthur with no further ill-will towards him, and with a healthy fear of what her protégé can do. Mordred being her protégé. She was more powerful than him, but as _she_ was mellowing out, _he_ was getting worse, and he had both Morgan's power, to a lesser degree, and Morgause's manipulative nature combined. We… won't get into details. That said, if Morgan were to return with ill-will again on _top_ of her power, I would rather have Morgause," Soredamer said. "She was a lot stronger in her manipulations, but this round my father wouldn't make the same mistakes as he did back then."

"I probably shouldn't dare to ask for a full story," Elsa said.

"There's a whole section in your library devoted solely to Arthurian literature filled to the bursting with thick books on thick books with a few not-so-thick ones sprinkled in, so yeah… Explaining it word of mouth would take some time," Soredamer replied, giggling a little.

"Regardless, if there's anything you would like to send to your husband, all you need to do is ask," Elsa said.

"It's fine. Really it is," Soredamer assured. "Should I think of something, then I'll remember your words, majesty. Thank you for your kindness towards me."

"You're keeping my sister company now that I'm gone," Anna said with a laugh. "Good thing too. She needs a friend that isn't me."

"I have Elena, I have Rapunzel, I've crossed Ariel a couple of times and quite liked her company, then there's Louise… I have friends!" Elsa defended.

"Acquaintances," Anna corrected.

"It's still more than you have," Elsa bit back.

"Um, ow?" Anna said, starting and looking offended. "I have Louise and Ariel and Rapunzel too!"

"Hormones. Let it go," Soredamer said to Anna. Anna sighed and relented, though she was obviously still put out and disgruntled at the remark. Soon enough the group settled in for lunch and into lighter conversation.


	2. Brush With Disaster

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Brush With Disaster

Eric stood on the docks waiting for the ship to pull in. Soon it docked, and shortly afterwards Justic disembarked, his brother Hans at his back. "Eric," Justic greeted warmly.

"Justic," Eric replied, going to him and embracing him affectionately, smiling tiredly and a bit sadly.

"What's wrong?" Justic asked.

"Father's gone, quite recently, and I'm king now; for all the good _that_ does me at this point," Eric replied.

"So you'll certainly consent to assimilation then?" Justic asked.

"Why bother to hold onto a dying kingdom? What political influence do we even have anymore, honestly? We're ultimately subjects of Denmark still. Dad's been brow-beaten and shoved around for years and retains virtually no power except with other off-shoot kingdoms. I'm not going to live in a protective little bubble pretending that we can actually last in the wake of the changing tides. Besides, I want more time to spend with Ariel and Melody. Giving up the kingdom will let me do that. I'll still be a Duke in the end, retaining a title and control of this land. The trade-off is I'll ultimately be a subject to the Danish King. It's not a bad price, for everything I might gain. A lot of responsibility comes off my shoulders," Eric said.

"Lazy," Hans sang.

Eric frowned at him then gave Justic an incredulous look. "Him? Really?" he asked dryly.

"He has the tools," Justic answered, shrugging. "I'll keep him behaved. I hope."

"Reassuring," Eric replied, smirking wryly. He turned to Hans. "Welcome Prince Hans. Or King now?"

"I'm not going to argue with King," Hans replied, shrugging.

"Prince it is," Eric said.

"Oh bite me," Hans said, frowning at him in annoyance, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

"You're tainted now," Eric replied, chuckling. Hans started at the remark and shot him a scowl. "No more the Virgin Prince," Eric further teased.

"Drop dead Eric!" Hans snapped.

"He's not being cruel, Hans," Justic said.

"You join him," Hans bit.

"Well _this_ reassures me about his temperament for diplomacy," Eric dryly said.

"He'll manage," Justic said, brushing Hans off. "He's just a bit stir crazy right now. And sulky. I took him away from his heavily pregnant wife."

"I've been meaning to congratulate you on that," Eric said, smiling at Hans. "What do you think it will be?"

"Her family had mostly girls, mine had mostly boys. It's a toss up," Hans answered, becoming a bit more accommodating at this change of topic and even smiling a bit. "Only a few months more. It's eager to get out."

"First time mothers usually carry for a longer time than they do with subsequent pregnancies," Eric said.

"Sometimes less time, so that's a concern," Justic said.

"Positive, Justic, positive. First time father here," Eric said, jerking a thumb at Hans with a grin. "God I've missed you. It's been a while."

"I've missed you too," Justic replied, smiling. "A pity we meet up under this sort of circumstance. Are you sure that you're okay with this, Eric? You know that the Southern Isles will give you aid if you choose to fight against this integration."

"I'm done with war, Justic. As far as can be helped. That's the Danish King's problem now, not mine. Or will be soon. And I couldn't be happier. I'm a father and a husband, and I really, _really_ don't want to die in some battle or war and leave my wife a widow and daughter fatherless," Eric said.

"Here, here," Hans dryly said. "The problem is I'm stuck in it as long as the Southern Isles and Arendelle are allied. The fact of the matter is that if the Southern Isles falls, Arendelle follows soon after."

Eric nodded. "Let's go inside. Soon the delegates from Denmark and Scotland will arrive, and then the fireworks are really going to start. Be careful. The both of you. One misstep could plunge you into a whole new war you don't want. The Southern Isles has seen enough war I think, and with Elsa a month or two out from giving birth, maybe less, I doubt the sea is where you want to find yourself posted, Hans." Hans grimaced at the idea of it.

Frozen

"These are the terms offered to both of your kingdoms," the Danish ambassador said, sliding two sheaves of paper over, one to Eric and one to Justic, who shared with Hans. It was two hours into their summit and Denmark was making its final play for Eric's land. The Southern Isles, thus far, hadn't dented, and both the Scottish and Danish ambassadors were getting agitated, offended, and antsy. The Danish ambassador had made a smart move in first focusing on closing out the deal with Eric's land. After that was done, he could focus the rest of his attention on trying to sway the Isles.

Eric read through the papers in detail. "So precisely what was discussed before, I presume? I've expressed already my willingness to assimilate with Denmark, but that's considering all has stayed the same as it was when last it was talked of," he said.

"It is the same," the Danish ambassador confirmed. "Nothing changed in the wake of your father's death." Eric continued to read silently. "We will not rush you of course," the man continued. They didn't need to, after all. The Danish king knew from the start the route this young ruler would take in regards to his kingdom. Eric had written as much in a letter to him, after a meeting between said Danish King and Eric's father had ended in Eric's father storming out in a tizzy. Eric had apologized for his parent's behavior in that letter and had all but pledged his kingdom to Denmark upon his dad's death. It had only been a matter of waiting until the old king had passed. And now he had, and his son was in charge, and Eric was set in his decision.

"You rush me into nothing," Eric replied. "I've taken into consideration all aspects of this integration. It may be somewhat jarring, but I've been preparing my people for it for some time now. Since first I took the throne." Which admittedly hadn't been very long ago, but it was long enough to make a dent. Ariel was good at building trust and relationships with the people, they all adored her, so that had smoothed things out a lot. Add to that his killing of the Sea Witch and then the whole deal with said Sea Witch's sister… He, Ariel, and Melody were firmly and welly beloved in his kingdom, and given the hero status of pretty well his entire family, the people trusted no rulers more to make the right calls for them. Even if they _were_ integrated into Denmark, they knew their Duke and Duchess would fight for their sakes if thing started going badly because of the decision. And they were right. He might not remain a king, but he still had his allies.

"Then I offer you this quill with which to sign. You will remain king until the closing of this year, and then our contract shall go into effect," the Danish Ambassador said, handing it over. "Until then you retain your authority as it is."

Eric took the quill, dipped the tip, and pressed it against the paper, writing his signature. He let out a heavy sigh when he had, closing his eyes. It had felt more bitter than he'd thought it would… But what was done was done. He shook his head, opening his eyes, and slid the papers back over before handing the quill back. The Danish Ambassador tucked them both away and was smart enough not to pull the 'you did the right thing' card. He held his tongue and immediately focused attention on Justic and Hans, who were still reading the papers and looking infuriated.

"We're not giving you permission to go to war over our kingdom," Hans said flat out, not even reading the whole thing before shoving the papers back. Too many clauses, too many compromises, too many threats, too much entitlement. "The Southern Isles is not some bone to be fought over! They will remain independent and separate from Scotland and Denmark both. They've made as much perfectly clear."

"Be reasonable, your highness! The Southern Isles canno' hope ta survive on its own!" the Scottish Ambassador protested.

"What's more you will not in a thousand words tell my brother the king to roll over like a dog and let you wipe them away," Hans continued.

"We're well aware of the changing political climate, gentlemen," Justic said in a more diplomatic tone, calling Hans down by placing a firm hand on his shoulder and pushing the young prince, half out of the seat by now, back into it. Hans shot him an annoyed glare before slumping back to glare darkly at them. Hans' reaction to all of this, though, was telling his brother enough to know that he had to tread very, very carefully. If Hans was reflecting the Danish and Scottish ambassadors right now - and he doubtless was - they were in no mood to play around. They were relentless and determined to get results, and they were hiding their anger and disgust towards the stubborn Southern Isles very well. "We are not blind to the inevitable death of off-shoot kingdoms such as ours, but that time is not yet. Not for us, not for Arendelle, not for Weselton, not for Avalor, not for Corona, and not for a great many others for that matter. Leave us to pass in peace in our own time. Why try to harry what will ultimately happen anyway? Let us alone a little longer. Soon enough integration is going to happen either way."

"Why drag out the death of a sufferin' dog?" the Scottish ambassador asked coldly.

"Because that dog isn't suffering?" Hans replied. "There's life in us yet, and a good deal of it too. Patience will earn either Scotland or Denmark greater rewards in the future than impatience and war will. You'll not only gain a more cooperative nation if you wait and let them come to you, but a more willing one too. Attempting to control a defiant land will end in disaster. Look at the disaster that was England and Scotland! I thought _your_ nation at least, Ambassador, would understand how miserable an idea forcing an unmalleable nation to join another is. Your history is steeped in Scottish rebels who couldn't roll over and die."

The Scottish Ambassador shot to his feet, slamming his hands furiously on the table. "Hans!" Justic exclaimed immediately, clamping a hand over his brother's mouth. "Do not reflect us into death or war," he hissed quietly. He looked at the Scottish Ambassador. "I apologize for my brother. He does not speak for the Southern Isles, or for Arendelle for that matter. He speaks for no one but himself. Caleb is the voice, I am the messenger. Hans just happens to be present for convenience's sake." As a secret weapon, he inwardly added. Namely to draw out the true intent of Denmark and Scotland. Hans was safe from thrusting Arendelle into war because Arendelle and Norway were of no concern to Scotland and Denmark. It wouldn't be worth it to war with them. Justic just had to make sure he did damage control well enough that they wouldn't take Hans' words out on the Southern Isles. Telling them flat out that Hans didn't speak for them absolved the SI of a lot of his brother's behavior while he was reflecting the two ambassadors.

"Yer miserable nation would no' hold a candle to either Scotland _or_ Denmark ye pompous little shi…" the Scottish Ambassador began before willing himself to take a few deep breaths and calm down. Gradually he sat, glaring murderous daggers at them.

"You well know I myself identify as Scottish. About half of my brothers join me in that sentiment because Scotland is the nation to which we feel most connected. We mean you no offense," Justic said. "My little brother loses himself. Now that you've heard from the Danish fop…"

"Excuse me?!" the Danish ambassador and Hans immediately demanded simultaneously in outrage.

"No offense to you either! Just to him!" Justic quickly exclaimed, pointing at Hans. He should probably keep away from insulting his little brother in this situation, he determined. The Danish ambassador still looked peeved, but remained calm albeit glaring daggers. He probably had brothers too, Justic figured, and so was being more understanding than others would have been. "I chose my words poorly. Sibling rivalry I'm afraid. Let me start again. We…"

"Have fended both your nations off at the same time for years. We will continue to for as long as we are capable," Hans cut off. "If our miserable nation can't hold a candle to Scotland or Denmark, why have they to this day been unable to conquer us?" The ambassadors both cast dark, unimpressed looks at the prince.

"Putting aside my brother's ill attitude, allow me to finish. The Southern Isles is a proud kingdom, and our brother a proud king. Our intent is to remain independent for the remainder of our lifetimes, or at least Caleb's. That intent will stay with us until the sun sets on our brother's reign and perhaps beyond that, even into the next century. But as I have stated before, we all know how this will inevitably end. With the Southern Isles assimilating into either Scotland or Denmark. Let us not focus on when that change will take place. Let's focus instead on which nation will ultimately win control of us and settle it at that! Then leave us to live out the remainder of our time free of further animosities with your great nations. There is no need for bloodshed between Scotland and Denmark over the fate of the Southern Isles. We are willing to compromise in solidifying which of your countries we will become a part of when the time comes, but there will be _no_ compromise on us integrating in our lifetime. Take that message back to your kings."

"Ye survive by the good graces of Scotland and Ireland," the Scottish Ambassador said. "Don't ye get to thinkin' you have any real power in your relationship with either of them."

"The Southern Isles will not be the excuse for further needless death and war between Scots and Danes," Hans said in a calmer tone than he had been using.

"No. But your refusal to compromise may mean much spilled blood of the islands," the Danish Ambassador ominously threatened. "We will send report of this summit to our respective kings. _They_ will decide whether your words are to be heeded or ignored."

"You had determined this course long before we all met up," Hans darkly said. "No amount of reasoning or soft words would have swayed the either of you from pushing retaliation and invasion. Don't play us for fools. You came into this meeting determined that if you didn't leave with our submission, you would leave us with the threat of war." They glared dangerously at him then turned and left quickly.

Frozen

For a moment there was silence between Eric, Justic, and Hans. "What was that?" Eric asked in annoyance.

"The moment I set foot in this room I knew their intent, and I reflected their attitudes and intentions right back at them," Hans stated bitterly. "My parting words to them stand. We could have been all rainbows and sunshine and they still would have left this room and gone off to recommend retaliatory action. Hopefully their kings are smarter than the ambassadors, but I seriously doubt it." He looked at Justic. "We shouldn't stay here. Our lives could be in danger. The sooner you get back to Caleb and warn him of the approaching political storm, the better. It might not end in retaliation in the end, it could well be a scare tactic, but in case it _does_ take a bad turn, he should be prepared."

"Agreed," Justic said, nodding.

"Now can I please go home to Elsa?" Hans said. "If potential violence becomes a serious concern in the coming months, I'd like to not know about it until I absolutely have to. I just want to go home and be with her for the final couple months of her pregnancy and maybe have at least a few more on top of that to be a father before I have to disappear."

"Quite a change from believing you'd be no kind of good father," Justic remarked.

"I probably won't be, but if I die in battle we'll never know, will we?" Hans replied. "I'd like to figure that aspect out before hand."

Justic sighed. "Very well. Thank you very much for your help, Hans. Take my ship and go home. I'll remain here a little longer with my friend," he said.

"And get assassinated," Hans flatly replied.

"Not on _my_ watch," Eric replied. "I'll bring him home safe, don't worry. Drop him at Arendelle to pick up his ship, maybe visit Queen Elsa and you for a few days with Ariel and Melody, then be on my way while your brother goes on his."

"Fine," Hans replied. He looked at Justic. "I hope you know I'm leaving immediately."

"Hold off until tomorrow, brother dear. The crew needs rest. They're not all a bundle of boundless energy like your young backside is," Justic said. Wow acknowledging that made him feel old. Pretty soon he'd be in his mid to late forties! In less than a decade. Yikes. Time flew. And Caleb was _already _there, he, Jurgen, and Lars all. He could only imagine how his brothers felt about that. Hans smirked, chuckling.

Frozen

Hans ended up waiting a day before setting sail for Arendelle. He'd held off because the Danish Ambassador had determined to leave the day after the summit. The sudden change had been unexpected. Initially the man's plan had been to remain there a few days trying to change Justic's mind, so that he'd suddenly changed up that plan was unsettling and set off alarm bells for Hans. He had either received an extremely prompt reply from his king, wasn't waiting and was heading out to deliver news in person, or had had nefarious motives in mind, possibly ambush motives though Hans was probably being a bit paranoid. After all, the man wouldn't have arrived in a battleship like Jurgen had. Nevertheless, Hans didn't want to give Denmark opportunity to send out a ship actually equipped to fight, so waiting a day before departing had seemed like the smart thing to do. At the time.

It turned out it wasn't, and he should have left hot on the heels of the Danish ambassador or even sooner…

Smoke blackened the sun. The wind roared angrily, lightning tearing apart the sky and rain falling in torrents. The screams of terrified, doomed men echoed all around. Hans stood stalwart and stoic, standing next to the helmsman, his eyes taking in the sorry sight bitterly. Of course one of those famous Nordic storms would choose now to attack with a vengeance. Here he'd thought this year they'd be lucky. And leave it to happen in the middle of an ambush because the Danish king resented that the Southern Isles couldn't just lay down and die! It was only a matter of time, Hans had known. He hadn't been totally unprepared for this eventuality. He just hadn't expected the Danish king to be that on-the-ball. There was no way the man could have gotten a battleship out here so fast. Hans suspected a few had been sent along with the Ambassador's ship and had fallen off to lie in wait in case things didn't go in Denmark's favor. When the Ambassador delivered report of the summit, the king had sent word to the battleships to act. Or maybe had even planned before hand for a signal that would trigger an attack.

The onslaught had come suddenly with no warning. One moment he had been eating breakfast in the captain's cabin, the next he'd received two reports of Danish ships approaching aggressively and had begun to prepare for retaliation while at the same time sending word by carrier pigeon to his brother that he needed help effective immediately. So now here he was, fighting a battle at sea when his wife was in her last trimester and heavy with child!

_And he wasn't there…_

To say he was depressed was understating it. He was getting more and more depressed each minute that passed. They'd been fighting two days… Backup from Eric's kingdom had arrived at the close of the first. But still it was another day that he would be missing. Another chance it would be longer. Another moment lost. A further possibility that she would give birth and he wouldn't be there for it! He felt sick at heart that he was missing this. His whole mind was utterly consumed with thoughts about becoming a father. Now his whole mind had to be consumed with the possibility he was going to die here. This was happening. It was actually happening…

He tried to distract himself from the situation, letting his thoughts drift to home and family. Anna had been extremely depressed as of late. Sorrow that she hadn't been able to experience her own pregnancy all the way through. But Gerda was her strength, and Kristoff…

_And he was Elsa's and he wasn't there…_

There had been no tears or heartbreaking fight upon his leaving. She'd let it go easily enough trusting this would be a cut-and-dry diplomatic mission. Now here he was engaged in another bloody battle. When all was said and done there'd been one last moment between them, one last goodbye, and if he died here and now, that was the last memory she would have of him. A casual goodbye like he was going on a pleasure cruise. She would hate herself the rest of her life for not making it more meaningful, and her pain would be his fault, and now he was living with that agony every moment and praying he survived so he could fix it and _really_ give her something to remember him by when he got back. Ugh, she would have been better off marrying Edvard, he grimly told himself. Edvard would have caused her far less heartache.

He focused once more on the battle when a sailor shouted that they were turning the tides. He scanned the dire scene. The enemy ships were retreating, he noted. Limping away barely managing to pull off. Some had sunk already, the Danish fleet humiliated by the ships of the Southern Isles and of Eric's kingdom. Eric whose own ship he was sailing next to now and struggling to keep in sight. His fleet was pursuing the damaged, broken Danish forces…

_On those boats were fathers and would-be fathers… They just wanted to go home…_

So did he, he noted to himself. But they didn't all get that luxury now, did they? His jaw twitched and he let out a shaking sigh, looking down. He raised the whistle around his neck to his lips and blew loud and shrill, a signal to the other ships to back off and let the enemy go. No more men needed to die on this miserable sea. They'd have enough trouble as it was making it back to shore in one piece in this hurricane. All of them would. Now those men could live and go home to their families… With luck this was the last battle that would need to be fought. Maybe at this point Scotland and Denmark would decide the prey they were fighting over was still too big to catch, and let it go. At least for a while longer…

"Hans, why are we letting them go?!" he heard Eric shout at him from his boat.

"If you were them, wouldn't _you_ want to go home to Ariel and Melody?!" Hans called back. Eric didn't say another word. "You're going to soon become part of them besides! Best not make war with the nation you're assimilating into at the close of the year. Fall back to port!" Hans ordered.

"Agreed!" Eric replied. Soon after, Eric's whistle stopped his fleet from pursuing as well and they all made for the port of Eric's kingdom once more. The Scottish Ambassador watched on from the palace, arms folded and jaw clenched, unimpressed with their return…

Frozen

Needless to say, the plan changed. Eric sailed with Justic and Hans immediately to the Southern Isles, his ship and a few of his fleet escorting them to make sure they got back alright. On the Southern Isles, the report was made to Caleb of what had happened on the sea and at the summit. Needless to say, it didn't go over any kind of well…

"Why did you let them go?" Caleb icily demanded when Hans, kneeling before him, told his actions to his brother. About time he summed it all up with one question, Hans figured. Caleb had been chewing him out now for the last ten minutes about how foolish he'd been and some nonsense about a hydra and its heads and about how he'd drawn out potential war that much longer.

"They wanted to go home," he answered simply. "I don't regret my actions."

Caleb was silent. "You will when they come back and finally destroy you. You will when the last thing you think about before you drown in the icy waves is your wife and unborn child," he finally, bitterly, replied.

"With all due respect, Caleb, go to hell!" Hans replied with a scoff, voice tinged with anger. Rising, he turned and stormed out before his brother gave him permission to leave.

Eric watched after him in a measure of concern, then seemed to realize he had been left behind with Justic and a very, very peed off king of the Southern Isles. He blinked and turned to Caleb with eyes a bit wide. Caleb was glaring after Hans. "So… Some storm, huh?" he said finally.

Caleb blinked and looked at him in disbelief. Eric winced. Caleb frowned. "Why did you let him get away with that judgement?" he demanded.

"Because I'm a father," Eric answered.

"So am I!" Caleb shot.

"Might want to remind your children and yourself of that then," Eric said, frowning a bit.

"You little…" Caleb began.

"And that concludes the report! Eric, let's you and I take some time to just breathe and enjoy some measure of peace before drama starts up again, shall we?" Justic cut off quickly before Caleb could lose them the ally who'd gone out of his way to save them against his own soon-to-be country.

"Yes. Let's," Eric replied, glaring daggers at Caleb. Caleb watched them leave then let out a heavy, exhausted sigh, collapsing into a chair and massaging his temples in stress. What was done was done. All he could do now was prepare for the next attack.

Frozen

Hans was currently occupying his free time desperately writing to his wife. And to his various friends scattered all about. He'd sent letters to Charles ever since the falling out, but they'd gone unanswered. Rather, he'd answered one or two, but they'd gotten increasingly more impersonal and eventually had tapered off into a final one that, if you read between the lines, basically was a firm and final goodbye… He'd conceded to give the friendship up for lost at that point, to his sorrow. However, recently there had been some small sign of neutrality at least, if not friendship. A touching one in fact. He'd written one last time to tell Charles of the sea battle as well as the possibility there would be another, and had hoped to say goodbye if he didn't make it. He'd explained to him that he didn't want there to be ill-will between them and pled again for forgiveness and had stated he held no more grudge for himself.

Then the book came…

It was a manuscript of Charles'. No note accompanied it, just the manuscript. _The Chimes_. That was the name of the book… And it had been dedicated to _him_… He didn't know what to make of it, frankly. He hadn't written back, only read the tale and smiled bittersweetly as he did, grieved but at the same time with some small measure of hope restored to him that maybe one day there could be repair again. If he survived. Here he was in the middle of a tumultuous land far from home and at risk of ending up fighting more nightmarish skirmishes at sea, and there was a so very painfully real possibility he would miss his child's birth… He hated that so, so, _so_ much. Of course, at the moment he was hating everything and every party involved in this whole political fiasco.

He reached into his desk, pulling out some papers and a quill. He looked at a picture of Elsa sitting on his desk and rested his head on a hand in grief, staring at it. Gods he missed her… He hoped she was faring well… He hoped she would forgive him for this…

Frozen

Caleb read through the letter he'd received silently, as he sat for breakfast in the dining hall. A frown pulled at his lips, but not an angry or concerned one, more a confused and mystified one. "It seems I owe you an apology, Hans," he finally said.

Hans snorted in derision. "_That's_ something I never thought I'd hear," he flatly replied.

Caleb gave him a sharp, scathing look. "Get over yourself," he all but sneered. Hans started to open his mouth to lash out, but quickly Eric cut in.

"What does it say?!" he blurted before Hans could freak. Which earned him a vicious scowl from Hans, but also shut the prince up.

"The king of Denmark has written to me, thanking me for letting his ships come home. He expresses his awe at the mercy shown him and his men and vows to leave the Southern Isles be until the time I or my descendants should so choose to hand it over to his power or Scotland's," he answered.

"But that still leaves Scotland breathing down our necks," Hans said.

"Denmark will fight with us against Scotland to drive them back and off our shores, should it come down to it," Caleb said. "Denmark has pledged us its alliance and this time has no intentions of giving it up again."

Silence. "What does this mean? Ultimately?" Connyn asked.

Caleb looked at Hans. "It means Hans can go home," he said finally. "We can grant him this. He has something far, far more important to do than die in a pointless skirmish."

Hans started. "Wh-what?" he asked.

"Go home, Hans. Go back to your wife," Caleb said.

"Are-are you serious?" Hans asked.

"You're among our best, and it'll be a tragedy to lose your expertise should Scotland act out against us, but we can handle matters without you," Jurgen said for Caleb, smirking at Hans. Hans was up and already halfway out the door before Jurgen was finished speaking, leaving what was left of his breakfast behind.

"His presence here could have saved lives, should battle break out," Eric finally said after a moment. "I would sail alongside no other say Jurgen."

"That's your choice to make. That said, if you're so desperate as that, then you'll be more than welcome to sail alongside me should we need your help at any point," Jurgen said. "But Hans has a heavily pregnant wife at home who's on the verge of popping their child out, so yeah." Eric nodded in understanding.


	3. Controlling the Play

.

Controlling the Play

Hans wasted no time in making for the docks. He would borrow Justic's ship and the crew he and his brother had borrowed from Eric's kingdom so that their own could rest a while. Justic could travel with Eric to Arendelle to pick the boat up later, and arrangements would be made for the crewmen who had been displaced to be returned home, but that wasn't a problem he had to worry about anymore. That was Justic and Eric's headache now. Ugh, this was why he preferred to use his own boat. Sharing boats made things complicated and annoying. Hans boarded the boat and immediately set sail, ordering his crew to head immediately for Arendelle with all haste. His heart beat excitedly. He got to go home. This had actually been relatively painless and nothing horrible had happened aside from the ambush, and he could actually go home! Hopefully to stay.

_But as was par for the course in Westergaard luck, nothing was as easy as that…_

It was his own fault, really. He should have been more wary. He should have investigated the conveniently situated crew from Eric's kingdom more closely. He should have been more suspicious than he had been, but he had been so preoccupied with getting home to Elsa that somehow it hadn't registered in his brain that generally sailors didn't stick around to sit on the docks and hang out with one another for the heck of it, much less hang out with the same guys they'd been travelling with for potentially weeks. He should have figured Denmark wouldn't be the only ones with a dirty trick up their sleeves. But he hadn't.

He'd been sleeping in the Captain's cabin when the attack had come. Suddenly a mass of men jumping him as he slept, forcing a gag into his mouth and pulling a sack over his head and binding him in seconds flat before he'd even fully registered what the hell was happening. They'd dragged him off the bed and forced him below deck where, guess what, gunpowder was! Because that was just the way his luck went. Gunpowder and fire powers didn't mix. Even if there was no gunpowder down here, fire powers and a wooden ship in the middle of a stormy Nordic sea didn't mix. They'd bound him to the bars of the cell in the brig on his knees with a sack over his head and left him thrashing and trying to shout curses and damnations through a miserable gag and a sack. Then arms were around him from behind and a sweet-smelling cloth forced into his face. It did its work fast, and in seconds he was slumped unconscious on the floor, totally helpless…

Frozen

He awoke to the creaking of the boards of the ship as it cut through calm waves. Sun streamed through a porthole bathing him in the glow, but he couldn't tell the time of day or how bright it was given the sack over his head. Wait, sack? He caught his breath, stiffening upon remembering what had happened. After a moment of utter stillness, he psyched himself up into trying to sit up straight again. Given how he was cuffed in this miserable cell, he couldn't have been passed out in a comfortable position. Sure enough, his body screamed in protest as he moved. He grimaced a bit, but the pain wouldn't last for long. He'd work it out with a bit of movement. He listened for any noises. He heard crewmen talking and laughing above. Outside the porthole he heard the sound of ringing bells and the bustling activity. They were pulling into port, he deduced soon enough. But where was port?

The ship soon stopped moving. He was still, waiting with baited breath to see where this was going. Footsteps came down and he heard the cell being opened. He felt a rifle put to his forehead. Another crew member unlocked the cuffs. "Act out and I will pull this trigger," the man with the rifle threatened evenly. Hans played it safe, determining to feel this out before he decided what to do. His arms were cuffed behind his back once more, which was a pity because if they'd been cuffed in front, well, strangulation by handcuffs wasn't unheard of… He immediately cursed that thought and banished it from his mind. It was somewhat disturbing his default response to a tough situation was murder. It didn't seem disturbing to the princes of the Southern Isles, who had lived in violence most of their lives, but to most normally functioning human beings it was _very_ disturbing. That was the kind of attitude he'd been trying to cultivate since starting his life with Elsa.

_He wasn't going home to her…_

The though sent a prickle of dread shooting through him and he almost retaliated vehemently, but willed himself to take this calmly. He could still talk himself out of this. Maybe. Situation depending.

The men led him up the steps, him stumbling every so often as was to be expected from someone chloroformed, bound, and disoriented. They brought him to the gangplank, wrestling him down it as he started to try and struggle to test their grips on him. The grips were firm and only became tighter the more he squirmed. They forced him into a coach of some sort and onto his knees before joining him inside. Soon enough the coach lurched forward heading towards whatever the ultimate destination was going to be.

_Flashbacks to Cumberland._

His heart sped up and he began breathing a bit quicker in a more panicked way. He bit back a whimper but started to squirm again.

"Easy," one of the men cautiously warned. Said man obviously had a healthy sense of unease towards him. Doubtless stories of the Southern Isles royal family. In fact, it was probably extremely unsettling to them how docile he was currently being. That meant he might be able to twist it to his advantage.

_But he couldn't think… __Memories of torture, starvation, degradation, fear…_

The coach came to a stop and he jumped. He sensed the confusion around him and cursed himself for being triggered by this. He was going to lose his position of subtle control if he kept this up! It wouldn't take much before they realized he was traumatized and frightened out of his wits. He had to stifle that fear. Let it become strength. He still had the illusion of strength. The trick was to make the illusion not an illusion anymore.

_Wicked prince, chameleon prince, they are afraid of you…_

They were afraid of him, they were afraid of him, they were afraid… He wasn't the only one here who was scared. He just had to make it come across like he was the only person here who _wasn't_. He drew a few deep breaths, calming himself, and let out a dark, amused chuckle. He could hear them squirm…

_Deceitful prince, traitor prince, this is your element… In the end you are still the mirror and will always be, no matter the changes you try to make._

_Chameleon prince, embrace who you are and live or hide from yourself and die…_

He was a threat to them. He was a danger to them. He was an unknown factor… And they were playing with forces they couldn't hope to comprehend… They were leading him through large doors, grand doors. Palace doors. A castle. He was in a castle. Then there was dampness and coldness and bars, but right now, in this moment, he wasn't afraid. He was poised and ready to do whatever he needed to. They left him in a cell, bound with the sack still over his head and the gag still in his mouth, then left him in darkness… He let the panic attack come then. Best get it out now when they couldn't see how they'd temporarily broken him just by virtue of sticking him in a dingy cell.

Frozen

He had been allowed to clean up and make himself presentable. Given who it was he was facing down now, that wasn't a surprise he supposed. Not in retrospect. Staring down at him, surely enough, was a royal vassal of none other than the king of Scotland. And Hans got the feeling this man would be speaking for said king from here on out. He stood poised and calm and collected. "So we meet, Prince of the Southern Isles."

"King of Arendelle," Hans answered plainly. "And so that I'm forced to meet with a vassal rather than one of my own station is… offensive to me, we'll say. It will reflect in my future dealings with you."

"An' wha' might those be?" the vassal asked, smirking like he was amused Hans thought for a moment he could do a single thing.

Hans smirked back, reflecting the sardonic smirk of the other and causing said other to frown a bit and appear to become more wary. "That's mine to know," he replied. "And my brothers' to know… I will confess it won't be a pretty picture for _you_ in the end."

"Even less so far ye," the man replied, scowling a bit. "If ya live ta see it."

"So what? Am I now a bargaining chip? Some political prisoner to further your king's desires?" Hans asked.

"Aye," the man replied.

"Realizing of course you're surprising no one but ticking off a great number of powerful opponents," Hans said. It was a lie, his brother king would be bowled over to learn of this capture followed quickly by white-hot outrage, but _they_ didn't need to know their move would knock Caleb off his game for a while and send him into a flurry. Elsa too would be stunned, and since she'd never dealt with anything like this before she'd probably be totally thrown for a loop for a while. Harried interaction between her and Caleb would be part of their flustered stage before they got it together and started formulating some kind of plan to deal with this political nightmare. "Ask your king; does he really want yet another war with a piddly little nation his entire country hasn't been able to defeat yet even _with_ Danish warriors working to weaken them as well? This is a political disaster for Scotland more than for the Southern Isles, and if the worst comes to worse, I am _still_ the throwaway prince. You would have done better to go for one of my brothers' children or one of my older siblings."

"You and your brothers have reconciled," the man replied.

"And yet in the end I'm still the thirteenth heir with nothing to gain," Hans answered. "My loss will be little more than a catalyst that will bring about your ruin. Imprisoning or, perish forbid, _killing_ me, will not make them back down or break. It will be equivalent of poking a hornet's nest with a short stick. You can't afford to keep me here for ransom. My life isn't going to be worth the Southern Isles."

"Are you afraid to die, boy?" the man asked.

Hans's immediate response, almost before the sentence was complete, was a sharp, barking burst of laughter that wasn't a result of reflection of deception. It was a genuine, condescending laugh. "I once longed for it!" Hans crooned through the laughter. He was surprised himself at the vehemence of the statement. "Had you captured me even a year or two earlier than this I would have already thrown myself on your sword as you attempted to stop me from breaking your neck." The words flustered the man, Hans was more than a little happy to note. "I don't fear death, but I've stopped yearning for it now. I have a wife to go home to. A wife who with a wave of her hand could decimate the whole of this fair city of yours and beyond. She's pregnant with our first child. She wants her husband to come home. And I _will_ go home to her… One way or another… If I return a body, then be assured that soon after that slight, this place, this city, will become a garden of ice figurines."

There was utter silence, though everyone present looked suddenly very unsettled and unsure what to make of that statement or this captive monarch. "Take him away," the vassal icily and lowly said, voice shaking in anger. "I will begin negotiations with his brother immediately. If the King of the Southern Isles should refuse us still, when we dangle this whelp above his head, then he will pay for his defiance with his brother's life and the next message sent to him will contain his sibling's head.

"Send my personal effects and my ring to my love and see what happens to you then," Hans bitingly challenged.

"Arendelle is of no use to us," the man replied.

"No, it isn't. But one way or another my wife will hear of my death," Hans replied. "She might as well have my clothing and my ring back. Some form of compensation for you unjustly murdering her husband."

"How about we send her your heart along with your things?" the ambassador sneered.

"Please, please, _please_ do," Hans answered. "I should have thought of it _myself_. I'll watch on from the Otherworld and laugh at what becomes of you then."

"Hiding behind your pregnant wife. Pathetic," the man bit.

"Oh, I'm not hiding. It's just how it'll be," Hans answered, shrugging. "Are we done here? Because if we are, I'd like to be returned to my cell."

"Take him to solitary and keep him there until his brother's response comes to me. If it returns negative, prepare him for his execution," the vassal bitterly stated, glaring darkly at Hans. Hans spit at him and was struck for his trouble, but he all but brushed off the attack and practically growled as they roughly jerked him around and forced him harshly away from the Scottish King's vassal…

Frozen

_Addressed to King Caleb Westergaard of the Southern Isles:_

_The Scottish king sends his regards to you in the form of this letter, which has been written by his vassal's hand in the blood of your youngest brother King-Prince Hans Westergaard._

_News of your refusal of our reasonable and generous terms as to the assimilation of your kingdom into the country of Scotland has reached our ears, and our patience with you has reached its end. We give you now a simple and direct ultimatum. Surrender your land to the power of the Scottish king or with our next correspondence receive the head of your captured brother as your reward for your loyalty to a dying kingdom. His will not be the last if you continue in your obstinance._

_There will be no negotiation. Reply with your declaration of surrender and your written pledge of loyalty and land to our great nation, and you will receive your brother alive and well. Attempt to bargain, argue, or refuse, and you know the reward you will receive along with our response to you._

_We cannot bleed him anymore than this or we risk his early death, and such a tragedy would certainly honor-free you from our harrying, and so I end this letter with a final warning. Surrender and see your brother again. Refrain and you bury what little of his corpse you will receive back._

_Signed,_

_Duke Killian, __First Vassal of the King of Scotland_

Frozen

Caleb's hands clung so tightly to the letter that his fingernails had pierced through the paper and broken the skin of his hands so his blood stained the page just as his brother's was staining it. White-hot rage ripped through him, tears of hate and fury scalding his eyes. He gave a furious yell, throwing the letter to the side in a rage.

There was stillness in the throne room where the thirteen seats sat, all of them filled say for one. It was a long moment before Jurgen finally worked up the courage to rise and fetch the paper. His eyes scanned it and he was utterly still. He didn't move a muscle. Lars took it next, pulling it from his brother's hands. He read is and made a sound of grief, covering his mouth with eyes filling with pain and concern. He composed himself enough to pass it shakily on to Rudi, who took it and shared the page with Runo. Runo responded with an angered roar, throwing his throne backwards onto the ground as he shot to his feet and began pacing, fists clenching and unclenching.

Justic read the letter as Rudi numbly passed it over looking haunted and traumatized, memories of Cumberland coming back in force. Justic felt tears pricking his eyes and shoved it to Franz. Franz nearly tore it up upon reading, but Calcas snatched it from his hands quickly so that he and his now very, very concerned triplet brothers began to read as one.

"I'm going to kill them," Connyn said flat out, voice shaking in rage.

"This is a declaration of war, nothing short of it!" Calcas, outraged, shouted.

"This is an ultimatum we can't refuse. We-we can't!" Coth numbly said, passing the letter quickly to Kelin-Sel, who shared with Iscawin. They read through it. Kelin-Sel broke down. He didn't try to hide his feelings behind masks of anger or hatred. He let them show and reveal, through him, how all of them felt. Iscawin was covering his mouth, eyes brimming with tears as he clutched the paper in a death grip.

"This kingdom is not worth our brother's life," Lars stated quietly, but his tone betrayed that he didn't know whether Caleb shared that sentiment or not.

"He's right! We're a dying land, Caleb! We will inevitably lose this kingdom, but we don't have to lose our brother! Give in to him!" Iscawin pled.

It was easy to say, it was what they all felt, but what they felt could not blind them to the intangibles in such a proposition. Dressed up so easy, so simple, but underneath so complex… Caleb was silent. "Caleb? Caleb, our reign isn't worth our brother's life. It isn't!" Coth insisted.

"Is our brother's life worth the hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent lives that will be lost when Denmark goes to war for our sakes against Scotland?" Caleb hollowly answered.

"Scotland will not give up. Denmark will inevitably war with them regardless!" Franz protested. Wouldn't they, he inwardly wondered?

"Caleb, pledge yourself to Denmark," Justic said to his brother, rising and going to the distraught king. "Maybe not in our lifetime, or necessarily in the lifetime of our children, but pledge the Southern Isles to the subjection of Denmark when the time comes that we finally do fall. It's our only chance to get him back alive and spare the thousands of lives that would be lost should Denmark and Scotland war. You have the ear of the Danish King, but the Scottish one will not hear you now that he has such a prize in his clutches. Then when you respond to Duke Killian, you can tell him that we have already signed ourselves over to the subjection of Denmark. He can do nothing more about it after that. War will not be worth his time or the lives it will cost if the papers are already signed, sealed, and delivered… And if he knows he gains nothing then maybe he'll let Hans go…"

"Or send us his head as revenge to spite us for our choice," Caleb numbly replied.

"But this way Hans still has a _chance_. And we won't have to sacrifice countless young men of ours or Scotland's or Denmark's to a fruitless war," Justic said, resting his hand on Caleb's shoulder, heart heavy inside of him.

"Only our brother," Caleb said.

"Hans is doomed whatever we choose," Justic said. "Say for acceptance of the terms… In which case Denmark will fight to reclaim us whether we want them to our not."

"What if the papers are signed, sealed, and delivered to Scotland instead?" Caleb asked. Then Hans would not be doomed.

"Denmark will war regardless, where Scotland wouldn't, and thousands more will still be doomed in his place," Justic said. "Politically, economically, and geographically, our joining with Denmark will be the smartest decision in the long-run. Even Scotland sees it. Their claiming us would be a matter of pride, and we would be a decoration, but they can let pride go. Denmark's claiming us is a matter of security and economy, and security is not so easily released as pride is… And I don't have to spell all of this out for you to know that you realize it too… Maybe if he had any actual power in Arendelle it would be more complicated than this—Elsa would have to be dragged into the center of it and through her Norway and Sweden too—but he doesn't. If Elsa dies, he won't inherit the throne; not unless she made stipulation for such a thing by giving him equal power to her not only in practice but also on paper. In the end, he is nothing to either Arendelle or the Southern Isles."

"Caleb?" Coth nervously asked.

Caleb was silent. "In this matter Hans… Hans cannot be our brother… He can only be a pawn in a chess game we're just dragging out, knowing we're as good as checkmated in the end anyway," he finally said. "Sometimes you must risk the sacrifice of a pawn to buy yourself more time to possibly come back from inevitable defeat… We play on the side of Danes in this game now…" Bitterly he added, "I will give pledge to Denmark… And hope to the gods it brings our brother back to us alive…"

"With Westergaard fortune on our sides?" Calcas dryly an sarcastically replied, glaring furiously at the ground.

"Elsa needs to know," Iscawin spoke up quietly.

"And she needs to understand precisely why her getting personally involved in the matter will only end badly… She's as helpless in this as we are, now, in fact more given it's our choice that makes or breaks this situation, and all the power lies in Scotland's hands now," Kelin-Sel quietly said.

"Scotland may not want a battle with Norway or Sweden. Elsa would raise hell with them both! We might still be able to have our cake and eat it too," Connyn insisted.

"Then Scotland holds Hans over her head as a bargaining chip too, and in the end, she still probably loses him," Jurgen stated. "It's whether he takes a thousand others down _with_ him or sinks alone. If Elsa raises hell, it's possible Arendellian lives are lost alongside Southern Isles lives, Scottish lives, and Danish lives all, which raises the death toll that much more. If she tries to go Snow Queen and take on Scotland alone, and she could at _least_ take on the city where Hans is being held alone without impossible trouble, Hans still brings hundreds of others down to death with him. Hans _will_ be killed before she can reach him. They'll see doom coming and determine she won't get away with her recklessness without losing something she didn't want to lose. We're all helpless now, Connyn. Caleb is right. Scotland controls the play now, and _we_ have _nothing_…"


	4. To Orkney

.

To Orkney

The Snow Queen sat tall and proud and beautiful on her throne, determined to hold court for herself and hope things today were relatively stress-free for the sake of her pregnancy. Nothing, though, was ever so easy as that…

The first person who entered was a mysterious man covered head-to-toe in black, face shrouded in a cowl… The guards were immediately on the defensive, moving into formation close to their monarch just in case. Elsa watched the stranger warily, eyes narrowed and hand protectively resting over her baby bump. "State your case," she said to the man, keeping calm.

The man was quiet, standing and staring at her. She began to feel very uncomfortable. "You are going to receive a letter soon," the man finally began. "Perhaps it has already come." Elsa bristled slightly, but stayed quiet. "In it you will read that your husband, the young prince of the Southern Isles, has been captured and is set to be executed very soon as an example to his brothers."

Elsa caught her breath, stiffening. Her fingers dug into the arms of her throne, the temperature dropped significantly, and the throne room slowly began to freeze over as she stared at the man before her in numb shock. The guards exchanged uneasy looks. Kai, close by, quickly moved to Elsa's side and put a grounding hand on her shoulder. "What?" she finally found her voice to say darkly and dangerously. Silence met her question. "How do you know this?" she pressed, rising slowly and menacingly, eyes sparkling in growing anger and fear.

The man chuckled darkly. From his robes he withdrew something long and sharp and beautiful… But oh so dark and dangerous. Every man there coiled back in horror with gasps. Her guards quickly moved in front of her as she stared at the object held in the man's hand. It was a sliver… A sliver of a mirror… _The_ mirror… "Do you dare to peer into it, my lady?" he asked.

Silence. "Where did you come across it?" she icily asked, the throne room freezing faster now. No reply. "Answer me!" she shot, a burst of wind and stinging snow tearing quickly through the room and enveloping him. There was no response and hardly any reaction. "The mirror reflects. It doesn't show what is happening," she said, trying another tactic.

"Look hard enough and you will see through the eyes of every other shard of that accursed object that exists… I know your husband is in possession of more than one of them," the man said.

Elsa bristled, pale with fear as her eyes widened a little. "Carabis," she finally breathed. The man smirked, but neither confirmed nor denied that identity. Elsa's first instinct was to order her men to seize him, but she knew that would only end in their deaths. She refused to doom them because of her own anger and fear. "You're lying," she finally stated. "And if what you say is the truth, rest assured I'll make sure it doesn't come to pass. I'll rescue my husband myself."

"No matter what you do, you will not save him," the man—Carabis?—replied. "Freeze the sea, run to the aid of your lover, but the moment they see you coming, he will die without further question and you will lose him regardless. If you keep coming then, at best all that will happen is _you_ end up dead too. You are among the most powerful of beings in this day and age, but even you with all your power cannot defeat an entire country. Nor would you be inclined to, I should hope, given how many innocent lives would be lost in such a rampage. The blood of innocents is _not_ something you want on your hands, of that I have little doubt."

Elsa, frantic now, began to try desperately think of ways to potentially defy fate if what this man said was true after all, and not some elaborate lie. "Get out," she ordered. She couldn't think with him here; and that damned mirror shard glinting in the sun taunting and spiting her with its mere existence!

_She felt her baby squirming inside her… It sensed the corruption too…_

It was reacting to the nearness of the shard… She hoped it was reacting with fear… "Very well," the man replied, turning to leave with the shard. He paused, though, only a few steps in, and looked back. "By the way, your sister has fallen quite ill. You should probably see her. Preferably before you no longer can."

"What?" she said again. He smirked. "What did you do to her? What have you done to my sister?!" Elsa demanded, moving swiftly forward, pushing passed her guards scowling at the intruder in her domain.

"Me? Nothing at all," he answered. "She took a trip recently, didn't she? A visit to China, wasn't it? She went in your behalf, leaving her little daughter and husband behind. A diplomatic matter, wasn't it? Hans had visited it before and was quite eager to form a political connection with the emperor, wasn't he? But you were in no condition to go and so he convinced you to allow Anna to go in your stead." Elsa was silent. "Exotic goods were not the only thing your sister obtained while there," the man said.

"What do you mean?" Elsa asked in a whisper.

"There has been tell of… a particular outbreak of a very, _very_ nasty disease in that part of the world, you know. A disease that has long elicited images of terror and feelings of utter dread in the minds of those who have heard even mention of the name. A disease that once upon a time wiped out more than a third of Europe, centuries ago…" the man said. Elsa felt a prickling of dread going through her, her eyes widening slowly in fear and her lips parting. "Do I even need to say the name?" he asked.

"That… that isn't possible," she whispered, shaking her head quickly in denial. "The last time that… that it was anywhere near Europe was in the sixteen-hundreds!"

"Your sister really should have stayed home," the man said. "Too much a bleeding heart for her own good… I don't think she would have even known the danger she was putting herself in when she helped that poor farmer to bury his beautiful wife and his lovely children. All say for two."

Elsa was utterly still, as white as snow. Her hand went to her mouth in shock and she turned her back looking haunted, eyes wide as she tried to comprehend what she was hearing. No… No! "You're lying!" she shouted, spinning around and sending a wall of ice spikes at him. He shattered them all with a wave of his hand in response, scowling a bit at the attack and fixing her with a dark glare. The guise of a mortal started to fall away, Elsa's heart tightening in dread as it did, and though it didn't completely falter, glimpses of the evil troll behind the mask of a human could still be spotted… "Get out of my palace, get away from my people, and if you come here again, I won't give you even _this_ chance to go! Leave!"

"Soon enough you will soon see the truth of it for yourself," the creature, Carabis, replied. With that he turned again, and this time he walked out. Before he reached the door, though, he vanished into thin air leaving Elsa riled up, fists clenched tightly and fear consuming her.

"Elsa?" Kai said, approaching and gently putting a hand on her shoulder. She glanced quickly and nervously over at him. "You need to rest," he said seriously. "Rest, pretend this never happened. That creature is lying to you, trying to agitate you and throw you off-guard. Don't let him do this to you or your baby. Lay down, take time to calm yourself and collect your thoughts, then come back refreshed and reassured that all is well. It was just a diplomatic mission. Hans didn't go to war, just to a conference. He doesn't even speak for Arendelle or the Isles. He's in no danger, or shouldn't be. And Anna having the… the plague…? The notion of that disease returning again is utterly ridiculous! Two centuries we've heard hardly a tell of it. What are the odds it returns now after so long?"

"You're right, Kai. You're right. Thank you," Elsa said, letting out a breath. The ice began to recede, the snow stopping. "I… I need you to arrange something for me regarding court, and then I'll go rest." Kai nodded.

Frozen

_"__Scotland controls the play now, and we have nothing…."_

Jekyll sailed through the Orkney Islands, off the coast of Scotland main, on a small ship piloted by a hired crew. His claim was that he was going to examine the archaeologic sites of ancient ruins and castles rumored to be there. They would see the castle he intended to go to, but they would not accompany him on shore and thus learn the secret of it. They would wait for him to return then put out again none the wiser, ideally. But then ideals didn't always work. He wasn't a pessimist, he was a realist, and he knew the more people brought to this island the more at risk he put the Knights of the Round Table of being discovered. But perhaps they would have their own way to cover things up if it came down to it? He was betting it wouldn't, but there was still that chance that he would be proven wrong. He'd taken this crew before though, the one or two times he'd been here since accompanying Elsa to this place, and they'd never proven overly curious or any sort of a problem. They seemed quite oblivious in fact, and that suited him perfectly. Charles had recommended them. He would have to drop by and thank the man for it on his way back. Though Charles and Hans had fallen out, it didn't mean the rest of them needed to choose sides in their little spat. He was perfectly content to remain friends with them both. Perhaps, in time, he could even help to smooth things out between the two. One could hope. He half wondered if the knights would have any advice on that matter, but he wouldn't quiz them as to the problem this visit. He was here to bring Mordred a refill of his medications and to see how the tyke was faring these days.

He was greeted warmly. He usually was. Lot was more than a little grateful that he had made Mordred a concern of his. The king was still leery of the idea of course, after all Jekyll was a link to Hans and Hans was who the knights were now trying to protect, but he'd warmed up to it considerably upon seeing the positive effect it was starting to have on his child. Mordred seemed happier these days, more relaxed and content. The soothing teas and herbs and medicines he was on were improving him, if only a little. He had been overall better behaved as well, it seemed, though that might stem from the lack of distractions and outside stimulation. Too little stimulation could ultimately end up being a problem, but it was alright for the time being.

"He's napping right now. He had a busy morning. We've been trying to keep him entertained and stimulated. He's growing restless here and has expressed a desire to explore other islands or even go to the mainland to see how things have changed in Scotland," Lot explained, walking with Jekyll through the large corridors.

"Good. The boy needs that activity. It will help keep his mind occupied," Jekyll said.

"Is it safe to let him go to the mainland?" Lot asked.

"I don't see why not. Scotland is a long way from Denmark," Jekyll replied.

"But not far enough they can't spat over the Southern Isles," Lot said.

"No, I suppose not. But certainly far enough that a little child couldn't hope to make the journey all the way there by himself without aid," Jekyll replied. "I doubt any of you will let him out of your sight long enough for him to be able to pull _that_ feat off, or even try it."

"It's dangerous to underestimate this particular little child," Lot said, shaking his head. "He's made the journey from here to… to where Camelot was… More than once. Alone."

"Really?" Jekyll asked.

"Yes," Lot replied.

"Hmm… Well, I'm afraid that in this day and age things are much more… vast is the word I'll go with, than what he's used to," Jekyll said. "There are dangerous men out there who would not have lasted long in your time, I think, who _do_ happen to last long in _this_ one, unfortunately. They are not so shamed or scorned into hiding and good behaviors as they once were." Jekyll thought a moment. "You know, if you would like you may come with me back to the mainland. I'm sure I can think up some excuse for the crew who sails me here to explain away your presences. Though you may need to wear different clothes than you do now."

"Dinadan was fast to adapt to the new fashions. They're not his favorites, but he certainly doesn't dislike them. Mordred may, though," Lot said.

"No little boy likes to be stuffed into a day suit, but unless you plan to dress as a commoner, I'm afraid he'll have little choice. Children bred of nobility are expected to look the part," Jekyll said.

"I'm afraid they'll have to deal with _me_ now. I'm not quite what they're used to," Lot replied. "If I'm a rich-bred man who lets his son dress in play clothes, that's my business not theirs."

"You'll certainly be jarring to them I have little doubt," Jekyll replied. "Do you want such attention on yourself, is the question."

"I'll deal with it," he flatly replied. "I'm not dressing as a commoner and I'm not fighting with Mordred to stuff him into some presumably tight suit, if your description is anything to go by."

"Really they can be quite comfortable with the proper tailor in your corner," Jekyll half-heartedly defended. "But you might not have the time that requires depending on how soon you want to depart for mainland Scotland.

"I'll consider it, healer. I'm tempted to go with you when you leave along with all my company. The clothes matter may be an issue though," lot said.

"I've brought some along, though there's no guarantee the clothing will fit you all very well. That, however, could be quickly enough remedied," Jekyll said. "Now, where is the boy might I ask?"

"He is playing in the fields outside," Lot replied, smiling affectionately. "He wanted to go horseback riding, but since we have none here, he had to beg Menw to let him use him as a steed. Menw was good natured about it. He's fond of horse forms. With them comes a sense of freedom and power. He says that when he is in it, he feels as though he could run forever. Come, I will bring you to them." Jekyll nodded and followed.

Frozen

Mordred tore through the fields with Menw, racing as quickly as he could go. The child was utterly thrilled, wide-eyed with excitement and really trying to push himself to his limit. Menw could run so fast! He squealed in excitement and glee as they darted out of the forest and back onto the field, breaking away totally and steering around obstacles or leaping over them. Jekyll watched with Lot silently. "The child is remarkable," he said as Mordred thundered by them.

"He is the eldest son of King Arthur. I hardly think he could be anything else," Lot replied, watching the boy solemnly with a proud but sad little smile on his lips. The smile fell. "Too bad he could never, or rarely, use it in the right way. For a while he did, but… But over time that all fell away." Jekyll was silent. Lot shook his head. "He's going to need a bath before we leave for Scotland. I suppose I'll draw him one and then send him to you, unless you'd like to speak with him while it's being drawn."

"I'll do it that way. Perhaps lead him around on Menw for a while to talk to him," Jekyll replied, "though I'm not sure how well he'd like Menw to hear what we say. Perhaps I'll do that to get him to open up a bit first and then bring him somewhere more private to dig a little deeper. Of course with the door partially open, as always."

"It isn't that we don't trust you, doctor, but enclosed spaces with people who aren't me or any of the others are very… phobia-inducing for him," Lot said.

"I have no doubt," Jekyll replied.

Lot nodded and watched his son a moment before whistling shrilly, snapping Mordred out of his euphoria and making him reign in Menw and turn curiously. He spotted Jekyll and frowned a little, looking a bit put out and like he was debating whether or not to just pretend he didn't hear and ride onward. But he seemed to forget his mount wasn't exactly an animal. Menw pretty well rolled his eyes and trotted towards them despite Mordred hissing commands at him and trying to turn him away, then semi-pleading, then just giving up. Then he got it into his head to jump off and try to run, but the minute he leapt, Menw went human again and caught him, carrying the struggling child the rest of the way chastising him sharply for his ill behavior. Mordred settled reluctantly and took to glaring bitterly at Jekyll.

"I apologize for his bad attitude," Lot flatly said. "Apparently he doesn't feel like playtime should be over."

"A walk may ease him," Jekyll said. He turned again and smiled. "Hello Mordred," he greeted.

Mordred seemed to be refraining from something, probably sticking out his tongue, then mumbled, "Hi."

Jekyll considered how to breach the little wall Mordred had built up. "I feel up to a walk before we get to business. Will you show me around the island a little bit?"

"No," Mordred replied. Silence. The boy shifted. "Yes," he corrected defeatedly, because he really _did_ want to go for a walk, actually.

"A bath will be drawn for you in your absence, little one," Lot said, brushing some sweaty strands of hair away from his child's face. "Really how did you get so sweaty darling? Menw did most of the work."

"Riding is hard work!" Mordred protested. Lot smirked. He knew it well, but it didn't prevent him from teasing the child.

"It should be ready in about an hour or so," Lot said. "Be a good host, as a prince is expected to be."

Mordred frowned, looking a little put out, turned to Jekyll, then looked back to Lot and nodded in understanding. He scrambled away. "Follow me Dr. Jekyll," he chirped, seeming to be getting into a better and more excited humor. Jekyll smiled at Menw and Lot and nodded, following the boy.

Lot turned to Menw. "Has he tuckered you?" he asked.

"I'm not too bad," Menw replied. Wait… "But I'm tired enough that I'm not drawing the bath _for_ him," he added swiftly, though not swiftly enough as to be overtly suspicious. Lot chuckled, patting his shoulder, and turned to go inside with him. "In this time and place you work like the rest of us," Menw said.

"I'm a king. I don't 'work'," Lot replied, sounding vaguely appalled at the notion. "Joking aside, my job was about a thousand times more emotionally and mentally stressful than the physical work of manual laborers, farmers, and peasants was, I'll have you know."

Frozen

Jekyll followed Mordred along quietly, watching him in amusement as the boy scrambled over rocks and little bluffs scattered throughout the field. The child was totally lost in his own little world and adventure he was probably making up. "How was your ride, Mordred?" Jekyll asked.

"Prince Mordred," Mordred huffily replied.

"Prince Mordred," Jekyll corrected.

Mordred glared then seemed to ease up a little bit. "It was good," he replied. "I wanted to see how fast I could go and how high I could jump. Well, Menw… He was holding back."

Jekyll smirked in amusement at the annoyed way Mordred had said that last part. "You are still very little you know. He didn't want you to get hurt."

"I don't care if I get hurt!" Mordred protested.

Jekyll took immediate note of the statement and judged how to reply and whether this was a warning sign or just an annoyed child talking out his backside as they were wont to do when trying to insist they were more capable than they were. "Perhaps, but everyone else does," he soon answered, though he logged the boy's response away for future reference.

"I don't know why," Mordred replied a little quieter, looking down.

"Because they love you," Jekyll replied. "And they don't need a reason for loving you. They just do."

"But you can't just love someone!" Mordred protested.

"Did they just automatically love you from the start? Your adoptive father and brothers not included?" Jekyll asked. "They came to love you once, and that love never died."

"It should have," Mordred said.

"But it didn't. Look, little one, see if you can make that jump there," Jekyll said, trying to steer Mordred's thoughts away from that train of thinking. Mordred looked curiously over then grinned, scrambling to the bluff and jumping as far as he could to land on the next one. It was little more than a hop for Jekyll, but it was a good leap for Mordred. Mordred giggled. "Look at that. You cleared the bottomless ravine so beautifully! But now there's mountain to scale." He pointed out a pile of boulders nearby. Mordred shot over to them and began to scramble up.

"I made it!" he victoriously stated.

"Now jump to me," Jekyll said, coming around the other side. Mordred hesitated a moment but then did so, leaping. Jekyll caught him with a smile and put him down. "So, how have you been feeling little one? Have the exercises and medicines helped you feel calmer."

"Yeah," Mordred replied, starting to kick around a rock.

"What do you do when you feel yourself getting very angry?" Jekyll asked.

"I take deep breaths and go to a quiet area for a little bit until I calm down, but if I start screaming or crying daddy… Lot… has to catch me and give me medicine and then sit with me a while until I stop," Mordred said. He thought a moment. "But he won't be able to when I'm bigger," he said a bit more sulkily.

"When you're bigger you'll have less issues taking your medicines or realizing when you need to, I think," Jekyll replied.

"They're gross," Mordred said.

"But you feel more relaxed," Jekyll answered. Mordred stubbornly refused to answer. "What about when your dreams are scary or when you don't know if you're still dreaming or not?"

"I tell them if I don't know… When daddy is cruel or looks like he's going to hurt me, I know it's still a dream or something that isn't really there… Then I cry or call out and he comes, but I sometimes almost hurt him and then I feel bad, but he says it's okay… But it won't be when I'm bigger…" Mordred said.

"When you're bigger, you won't be so afraid," Jekyll said.

"I want to be big _now_ then!" Mordred insisted.

"Now is the best time for you to learn where you need to get better and to learn when things feel wrong," Jekyll said, more trying to assure Mordred than say something factual. Honestly, he wasn't sure how truthful that statement was. "Come, we'll talk a little more later, but first you need a bath. Your father I think plans a trip to the mainland soon. Perhaps you will come with me, all of you, today even."

"Really?!" Mordred exclaimed, eyes bugging wide like he'd totally forgotten whatever it was they'd been talking about just now. Jekyll smiled, nodding. Mordred gave a cheer and raced back towards the castle excitedly calling for Lot by name. Which was a concern of Jekyll's. He would have to ask Lot if something had happened that drove Mordred to start trying to call him by name more often. It could have something to do with Hans and would subsequently need to be stomped out as soon as possible, if that was the case.

Frozen

Jekyll waited for Lot to settle Mordred in the tub then come out. "You normally help him bathe," Jekyll remarked almost immediately.

"I do, but I'm starting to let him wean into doing it himself now," Lot replied.

"Is there a reason for that, besides the fact I assume you feel he's getting too old for that now?" Jekyll asked. Lot hesitated a moment. "Were you all so bad at bottling things, _pertinent_ things, up?" Jekyll dryly asked.

Lot frowned then sighed. "He's started to tell me I'm not his father again. He's beginning to call me by name," he replied.

"I noticed. How long has this been happening? Do you know what triggered it?" Jekyll asked.

"I suspect a dream. A dream of parents he shouldn't even remember he was so little when they were gone… The ones Hans murdered… Well, Hans murdered the father and it seems allowed his men to pursue and molest the mother before leaving them to murder her _for_ him," Lot replied sounding highly unimpressed and a bit bitter.

Jekyll grimaced. Those were details he could have done without knowing. "I was… aware Hans' past was an ugly one. And his misdeeds and injustices innumerable… But you're right. Mordred should not be able to remember those things. He was an infant."

"Then why can he? Do the fates despise him that much?" Lot asked, sounding a bit upset as he drew a hand through his hair. "It's cruel! How can he prove to himself and them he is worth another chance if even _they_ conspire against him? …And now that image of a father who adored him is stuck in his head, and the vision of a mother assaulted and murdered on her own property, and further still, memories of the parents that adored him _after_ the first ones… They consume his mind because he obsesses over the most inconvenient of things—doubtless someone has a hand in it—and now I've become just Lot yet again. The man who shelters him but is in no sense of the word his father."

"As if blood was the only tell of that," Jekyll said.

"As if raising him from his infancy was the only tell of that," Lot corrected.

"Does he know that those people weren't his blood?" Jekyll asked.

"No. He suspects it's so, but no," Lot replied.

"Hmm… Regardless, he'll come to realize his error soon enough," Jekyll assured. "Perhaps the phase will wax and wane, but make no mistake; you are beyond any doubt his father, majesty. He couldn't be more your son if he were born of your own seed. Tell me, what was co-parenting with King Arthur like?" he added in a half-tease, trying to lighten Lot's mood a bit.

Lot looked blatantly unimpressed at the memory, grimacing, then ruefully smiled. "It was an adventure," he replied. "I was helping a baby raise a baby. Fortunately for _me_, Arthur was co-parented by his mother, Ector, and a servant of Arthur's whose story is a convoluted one and therefore not one I'll get into now. So while _they_ were raising _him_, he was trying to be something of a father to Mordred when there was less of an age gap between him and his boy than there were between some siblings, so really I ended up babysitting them both more often than not and having to separate them at times as if they were bickering siblings… It was hard on Arthur. A source of deep shame and inadequacy to him that he couldn't seem to do anything right and couldn't seem to connect with Mordred no matter what he tried to do. He felt like a failure from the start… I think ultimately that may have been what damned them both… But slowly I began to help them, and Arthur began to come into the role of a father rather than friend or brother, and things were improving in leaps and bounds finally and then… then everything went to hell… Leave it at that."

"Your 'death', if I can call it that, or another's?" Jekyll asked.

"I honestly couldn't tell you," Lot replied, shaking his head ruefully. "I wish I could. I feel like maybe I saw a bit of slippage earlier than my death, but Arthur and Mordred's relationship came and went in waves so I couldn't be absolutely certain, and before I _could_ be, I was gone… His calling me by name isn't a good sign. It never was. It was usually when he was resolving himself to something, trying to disassociate me from that term. Ages ago, when we trod the earth, it was because he wanted to remove me from the term 'father', a term that had become a bitter curse in his own mouth when spoken. Morgause made it a curse. You must kill your father, your father must die, your father is a thief, your father is a traitor, your father only wishes you harm, your father only causes you hurt, father, father, father, like to be a father was the worst crime anyone could ever commit."

"And _you_ were his father. He didn't want daddy to die…" Jekyll realized sympathetically.

Lot nodded. "Then Arthur was daddy, and Mordred was more inclined to call _him_ father because father was a bad word to him and they'd never gotten along anyway before they knew… When he began to feel himself starting to love Athur, he shut off. This… this change came over him… One I can't understand or describe. Then it was like he was so totally and hopelessly lost and confused… You aren't supposed to love someone you were born and bred to kill… Father is supposed to be something wicked and cruel and treacherous, not something loving and warm and safe… Nowadays I think there's a different reason. Because Arthur isn't here, and the man who took him in was his father, and he feels in himself that he loved that man and the woman he would have called mother. He _certainly_ loved the next pair that took him in after the first ones were gone, but the original two… they are his whole reason for wanting Hans dead, for hunting him down like a dog. To avenge the parents the prince stole from him… But now if _I'm_ father, if he loves me as such, if he lets himself realize that neither of those sets of parents were ever his, and let's himself realize he never even had a chance to know them let alone truly love them…"

"Then what is this vendetta for?" Jekyll finished for him. "He is plotting to murder a man for the sake of people he never even knew… You are his father, but he can't let you be."

"Because it will save Hans if he _does_… And break the wicked plotting of the Fates, I sense, or the gods or whatever force is driving him on this self-destructive course," Lot said.

"His own mind plays a part too," Jekyll said.

"Maybe; but if it does, I can't see how it could be a large one," Lot replied with a sigh.

Jekyll nodded quietly. "Fight for that honor. Fight to get him to see you as his parent. It may not work, and I will admit that. If fate conspires against him it is very, very hard to defy, but battle for all you're worth anyway. One day he will see it."

"Will he see it in time?" Lot quietly asked, sorrow in his eyes as he looked towards the bathroom door.

"We can at least try and make him," Jekyll answered. "Have you come to a decision about the mainland?"

"We will go with you," Lot replied. "Dinadan was proactive and collected enough clothing to be able to fit each of us fine and well."

"Alright. I will get to work on an excuse to the crew I brought along. Perhaps you're a group of archaeologists and scholars examining the same ruins. That should suffice. They seem the sort not to ask questions and to take things at mostly face value. I should go to them and warn them before you all arrive, though. I will do that now, while Mordred is bathing, then return and have a little bit of a session with him, and then you can get him ready and we'll all make a few days of it how about? Or at least you and your company."

"Agreed. Gramercy doctor," Lot replied, nodding to him. Jekyll bowed then went off to inform the crew he'd brought along about the archaeological party he'd happened to stumble across. He could make a convincing lie out of it if he used words wisely.

Frozen

Lot entered the bathing room where Mordred was, carrying a linen for drying him in. "Are you almost finished, darling?" he asked the child.

"Yeah," Mordred replied, not looking up and instead preoccupying himself with the little toys they'd made for him to play with. Carvings, mostly, to float around in the water. He thought a moment, looking ponderous, then looked at Lot. "I'm not your darling," he said. "You aren't daddy." The tone was cold. Mordred turned back to the toys.

Lot was silent. "We must dress you for a trip to the mainland," he soon said. "Finish up little one… And for the record, you _are_ my darling. Whether I'm your born father or not." He resisted the urge to call him out and demand to know what dreams he'd been having or who he was speaking to. Rather, who he _thought_ he was speaking to… He was almost afraid of the answer. Mordred frowned at him, slightly put out at the defiance, but then looked at the linen and eyed the clothing on Lot's arm and shifted. He clambered out of the tub and was met with the linen towel immediately wrapped around him tight. Lot dried off his hair gently then gave him the clothes. "Come straight out. The physician is waiting for you to meet with him." He made to leave, but Mordred caught his hand and kept him there as he dressed. Lot sighed, shaking his head. He didn't know the motive behind it. Either it meant Mordred was too afraid to dress alone because something might get him, or it was something that had been ingrained in him while a slave, in which case he was better _off_ leaving the child alone to clothe himself probably.

"How long?" Mordred asked.

"Not a long talk, I promise… Why do you want me to stay while you dress, Mordred?" he asked. He would have said 'son', but that would have given Mordred a way to avoid the conversation by pulling the 'I'm not your son' card on him. Mordred didn't answer. "I will never hurt you, little one," Lot said as Mordred was finishing up.

Mordred paused, looking up at him and staring quietly. "That's why you have to stay," he finally said, sounding vulnerable and meek. "So that no one _else_ will come and hurt me."

Lot was quiet. "Are you afraid of the others?" he asked.

"No… They'll save me too," Mordred said. "I don't like to be saved, but sometimes you have to be. I remember that."

"No one will ever find you here," Lot said, kneeling in front of him and tapping his nose softly. "I promise… I will do this for however long you feel you need me to, but I know that soon enough you'll realize for yourself that there's no place safer for you than in my halls."

"When my brothers and sister were here, then I felt safe," Mordred mumbled quietly. "When there were people… Because you always heard them, and they were always close by."

"Perhaps there are not so many as there once were, but we are never far away little one. And you'll always hear us, if you wish to," he said. They would speak together whenever the child was bathing or going to bed from now on, so he could hear them close and know they would be there to rescue him if anything bad ever did happen.

"There used to be a hundred voices echoing in grand halls and beautiful corridors," Mordred mumbled, hugging Lot. "More than that even. One-hundred fifty… Thousands if it wasn't just all of you…" Lot was quiet, holding him near and willing himself not to get wistful and sentimental and teary-eyed at the memories.

"Perhaps there are not so many now, but there are still some," he replied gently. "Come, little one. Let's finish up and get you to your session, and then we will prepare to go to the mainland, alright?" Mordred perked up again, nodding a bit more eagerly.

Frozen

"Have you have very many scary dreams, Mordred?" Jekyll asked.

"Not as many," Mordred replied. "But when I do, they're _so_ scary."

"Do you want to talk about them?" Jekyll asked, letting Mordred draw. Mordred paused, thinking, then shook his head and went back to his pictures. Jekyll looked them over and grimaced a little. Many of them had the figure of a woman. There was a man there too, holding her at bay. Sometimes two men. And there was a teary-eyed little boy watching helplessly on. In others there were many men and a single little child crying his eyes out and red scribbled everywhere with various nefarious looking weapons. Then there were pictures of a man being murdered by another man… And a woman screaming and crying and holding a baby with other men chasing her… The man doing the killing had his whole face scribbled out in red and black.

Jekyll pursed his lips. "Let's clean these up, shall we?" he said, not sure how to tackle this exactly. He would have to think it over. He took them carefully from Mordred, who eyed them all almost obsessively watching Jekyll's every move. Jekyll put them in a book of his and tucked the book away before pulling out fresh paper. He stared at it a moment, thinking, then drew the picture of a young king upon a throne, a crown on his head, then another picture of a round table with many men sitting around it. He put them down in front of Mordred. Mordred stared at them. His eyes drifted to the king and fixated on it. After a moment Jekyll handed him drawing materials again. Mordred kept staring. Jekyll drew in the image of a little boy who looked much like the king. Loholt. Lot had described Arthur's second son to him in detail. Mordred's eyes flickered to that boy, then back to the king, obviously Arthur. Then he drew himself in the picture, at Arthur's other side. Then he drew in more people, one girl and four more boys, most of them looking closer to the king's age than his and Loholt's. Then he drew in another, a bigger figure than even Arthur. Jekyll could only guess that was meant to be Lot who had been older than all of them and had probably been the voice of authority in his life. Mordred paused again, looked like he was going to draw in another figure, then stopped. He stared at the picture then picked it up and gave it to Jekyll with a pleading look. Jekyll smiled gently and hung the picture up on the wall. He kept the good ones, the nice ones and safe ones, for Mordred to look at and be reminded of.

Mordred pulled the picture of the round table over, staring. "There were more than that!" he protested.

"How many more?" Jekyll asked.

"More than a hundred!" Mordred said.

"Well I don't think we have a paper big enough to draw all that on," Jekyll said. "Not unless they're all little dots."

"Then make them dots!" Mordred insisted. Jekyll flipped the paper over, drew the table again, then started adding dots all around it and counting as he went with Mordred until they reached one-hundred-fifty dots altogether. Mordred seemed satisfied with that and insistently pushed it into Jekyll's hands. Jekyll hung it up as well. "When are we going?" Mordred demanded. "I don't want to talk anymore."

"We've barely gotten anywhere, Mordred, but if you're so eager then very well. We'll cut this short today," Jekyll said. They'd talked a little before drawing time. It wasn't all that fruitful, but it was something. Lot had apparently conversed with him just before bringing him in, and Mordred had seemed to feel much safer and at ease than usual. Mordred scrambled up and raced out calling excitedly for Lot that they were going to go soon. Jekyll sighed, put the things they'd used away, then followed with a fond and amused smile.

Frozen

The ship cut through the Orkney Islands. The crew hadn't been overly curious, which was for the best. Sir Dinadan and Sir Kay were keeping them well and entertained so that they didn't get suspicious and start prying. Jekyll, meanwhile, was showing Mordred's drawings to Lot who was frowning seriously. "He's seeing _my_ dreams," the man said flatly. Jekyll looked curiously up. "Every night I dream of my wife. Of Morgause. She's trying to get passed me to reach him, but I won't let her. I'll never let her! …I feel like if I lose to her in _my_ dreams, she'll enter into his… And that terrifies me… It feels like I'm all that keeps her from entering his mind… Maybe I am."

Jekyll was quiet. He had become privy to _many_ strange and wonderful things that he had never been aware existed before… "Is she a challenge?" he asked.

"Sometimes… But that's when Arthur comes into the picture too… On occasion Soredamer…" Lot said.

"Perhaps she is dreaming what you dream. Perhaps Arthur as well, in Avalon," Jekyll said.

Lot shook his head. "A frightening thought… But stranger things have happened to us."

"Next time, turn to your daughter as if she can hear you—because she might be able to—and tell her to find Mordred in your dreamscape and take him away from it all to memories of happier times. Or do it yourself and let _her_ handle Anna. In fact, tell Arthur and your daughter both what you suspect, because in each of your dreams you may be trying to keep one another alive as well as fend off Morgause. To know you're all in control of your own actions will help the other two to focus on driving the shared enemy away," Jekyll said.

"You speak with certainty," Lot said.

"I see Hyde in my dreams," Jekyll replied. "I saw him when he was still part of me, and I see him still. And I know he hears me, that he is his own person and I am mine, so I have some sense of the sensation you must be experiencing now, though certainly not in exactly the same way."

"Who is Hyde?" Mordred asked from the doorway.

Both quickly turned and stared. Jekyll sighed then smiled ruefully. "I have a malady, little one, but not one you can see. It is a malady of the brain."

"Like mine?" Mordred asked, shifting a bit.

"In a way. I have two minds, you see," Jekyll said. Sort of. "Two different people living inside of me only not really, it just seems that way. One mind does his sort of thing and I do my sort of thing, and we don't always know what each other is doing. It is like two people living in the same body. Sharing it. It is very confusing sometimes, and also very dangerous because he is nothing like me at all and I am nothing like him, but if he does something wrong or bad then I will be the one who gets the blame. If I do something nice and good, he will take advantage of the person I helped and maybe even try to hurt them which is something I would never do, so we both must be very careful what we do. I found a way, though, to give the other part of me a body all his own, so he now is separate from me and he will do what he wants, and he will face the consequences for himself instead of getting _me_ arrested… But he is dangerous and violent and now unleashed, and now I feel guilty because maybe he should have stayed inside me where I could temper him. I don't know how to fix it anymore, though. I'm trying, but I don't know. I thought if he died, I would be free, except he won't die… If you see a man named Edward Hyde, then you must run as far away from him as possible and not let him speak to you for very long because he is terribly cruel and manipulative, and he might hurt you very badly. He likes to follow me, so I don't like going many places in case he pursues."

"So you cured yourself but you want to make yourself sick again?" Mordred asked.

"Sick… isn't the word I would use necessarily, but I suppose so," Jekyll said.

"Why?" Mordred asked.

Jekyll was quiet. "Because at least when I am ill, and he inside of me, it spares others from pain and death," he soon answered. "And I would like to be free of him forever, part of me is almost willing not to care that he's free regardless of the cost, but most of me defies that feeling of self-preservation and pushes me more towards self-sacrifice."

"That's stupid," Mordred said.

Jekyll smirked in amusement. "Is it really?" he said. "_I_ don't think so, and so I am content with this decision."

"Come little one, let's watch the water," Lot said. "Perhaps we'll see sea animals." He rose, going to Mordred. Mordred nodded, taking Lot's hand and leaving with him. Jekyll sighed and looked out the porthole worriedly. He didn't relish retuning to the mainland. Where Hyde would doubtless be waiting…


	5. From Orkney to Scotland

.

From Orkney to Scotland

Kai had requested all grievances be submitted in written form for Elsa's review while the Queen prepared herself for the delivery of her baby. The people had been mostly accommodating, and those who weren't Kai dealt with quite efficiently. The cases submitted were then in turn handed off to Soredamer for review. Soredamer would express her thoughts and opinions on the matters to Elsa, and explain what her own personal decisions would have been. Elsa determined to review them later and decide whether she agreed with Soredamer's assessments or not. She had the final say in matters, after all. In the meantime, she had letters to go through. She was rifling through them as she walked towards her room. She paused at one, suddenly. A message from Caleb. She felt a chill race down her spine as Carabis' words returned to her. She frowned a bit curiously and entered her room before crafting a letter opener of ice and cutting it neatly open. She removed the message and began to read through it…

As she did, she felt her heart stop and her breath hitch in her throat…

It seemed as if her legs suddenly stopped working. She almost collapsed before bracing herself on a wall and covering her mouth in horror, dropping the letter in shock and disbelief. She stared at the paper like it had burned her.

_In it you will read that your husband has been captured…_

_Capture, captured, captured…_

_Sentenced to death._

_Execution as an example to his brothers._

_Execution, death, Hans!_

A brief scream tore from her throat as she fell to her knees and scrambled to pick the paper back up to read it again, trying to tell herself it wasn't real and that she'd imagined the words there:

_Dearest Elsa,_

_It is with wretched guilt and righteous anger I write to you of this news. Scotland has made us their pawns…_

The letter went on and on, and she read every word a thousand times like somehow they would magically change and become something other than what she was reading!

_Having no other choice, we tried the one avenue that was left open to us to attempt to get your husband back alive…_

No. No, no, no, no, no!

_Their rage towards us for pledging ourselves to Denmark was greater than we could have anticipated, and so out of spite they determined that if they were to lose us, then we would lose something too… It was a gamble from the start, and this time our gamble did not pay off. Hans' fate has been sealed._

"No!" she screamed out, shooting to her feet and holding her head, starting to pace. The room became ice in only seconds, the wind and snow picking up all around her and swirling throughout the room like a blizzard. She dove at the paper again, snatching it up and reading it once more, clutching it tight with eyes wide in fear and anguish.

_I have done all I could to try and plead for his return. I have told them he is to be a father. I have warned of the potential conflict his death will cause for them against Norway, Sweden, and Arendelle all. I have pled, I have begged, I have offered everything that is in my power to offer, and it has done no good, and so with a heart more grieved than I can express, I write this letter to you now so that you may know what has befallen your husband when he does not come back to you. I beg you do not do anything rash, my noble queen, for if you do the loss of life will be more extensive than I feel you are in any sort of mental state right now to realize. Understand, please, that you have no power in this anymore, just as we have no power. It is one life or thousands… Thousands of husbands and fathers and would-be fathers just like him._

She felt the scream welling up and froze the letter solid before letting out a shriek of grief, falling to her knees and shattering the letter on the ground, breaking down into sobs as everything around her dropped to sub-zero and as a dark cloud began to form outside, wind and snow starting to whip up where it had no place whipping up. The people, nervously looking up, immediately dropped what they were doing, fleeing to their homes to try and shut out potential disaster. Elsa wept and wept and tried to contain herself to will away the threatening storm. She managed to turn it from the outside world, but all of it unleashed freely in her room, causing snow to pile up swiftly before the flakes finally tapered to a gentle fall as she cried, gaining control of her anger and letting grief and despair overwhelm her. At least for now. She could give herself this for now. Grief and despair, though, would not be allowed to remain long. It couldn't. Not if she were to get her husband back. Perhaps Caleb's pleas to the Scottish King had gone unanswered, but maybe… maybe hers _wouldn't_ be…

_He was right about your husband… What if he is right about your sister too…?_

Elsa, shaking in fear, slowly looked up in horror. If Carabis was right about Anna, about the Plague… Gerda and Kristoff… Gerda and Kristoff! They had to get out of there as quickly as possible! Anna would have to be quarantined, the best doctors she could find would have to be summoned, everyone would have to be kept away from her sister to ensure the disease didn't start to spread… Oh gods, she had to check on Anna! She gave a cry and staggered to her feet before bolting out of her room and running through the palace and outside, forming her ice mare again and mounting her, galloping towards Kristoff and Anna's home…

Frozen

Mordred bolted off the ship full-tilt. Alexander darted frantically after him. "Mordred, don't stray too far! Mordred!" he shouted out, quickly catching up to the child and seizing his arm. "Are you out of your head?! You could get yourself lost or hurt running off like that!" Mordred stuck out his tongue at Alisander in annoyance. Alexander started and frowned with eyes narrowing, unimpressed. He rolled them with a sigh and dragged the boy promptly back to the ship, the child protesting and squealing for help like he was being kidnapped. It wasn't even a trigger, he was just doing it to be a little crap.

The others came down the plank looking around the harbor in some measure of disgust, obviously less than impressed with a number of the modern changes they were seeing. Jekyll couldn't help but smirk at their backs as he followed. His smirk fell as he scanned for Hyde, who he couldn't see but nonetheless sensed the presence of somewhere here. "First order of business is to put you all up in a hotel," Jekyll said.

"A what now?" Kay asked.

"An inn," Jekyll said.

"The hell was wrong with the word inn?" Dinadan asked. Jekyll shrugged.

"But they're basically the same thing?" Hoel asked.

"Bigger than what _you're_ all used to, I'd guess," Jekyll replied. "More business than warmth."

"Well _that's_ disappointing," Alexander said.

"You're disappointing!" Mordred snapped.

"The warmth was the best part!" Dinadan agreed, stopping Alisander's retort before it slipped out.

"It'll do, doctor," Menw cut in.

Alexander ushered Mordred to Lot, looking annoyed. "Are we going or what? The sooner we have a set place to stay here the better," he said. "And why am I on babysitting duty?"

"Because you're his brother-in-law," Lot replied. "Prove yourself worthy of it."

"We're really doing this? Again?" Alisander demanded in annoyance. Mordred snickered a bit. Jekyll decided he probably didn't want to know.

"Follow me chaps. We'll find something worthwhile for you. What is your financial situation, might I ask?" the doctor said.

"Give me a few hours and I'll bring us in a bucketload," Dinadan said, looking around. "Now where are the depraved and wretched letches?"

"You're not prostituting yourself, Dinadan. It's not needed," Kay said. "Stop pretending you'd like it too. We all know you wouldn't."

"We're in poverty, Kay. Destitute. In the presence of kings. We don't get the luxury of options," Dinadan replied with a sigh, rolling his eyes.

"Neither of these kings is asking any of you peasants and or princes to give of yourselves for our honor," Alexander put in.

"We'll figure this out," Hoel agreed.

"We already have. Both King Caleb and Queen Elsa have proven extraordinarily charitable towards us," Lot said. "We were sent gifts of money. Caleb claimed ongoing payment for keeping his brother safe, Elsa claimed apology for something or other regarding Soredamer that she wouldn't get into."

"Probably because there's nothing," Hoel said with a smirk. "She just needed an excuse."

"Maybe," Lot replied, sounding not so convinced.

"We can't leech off of them forever," Alexander said. "We need to establish _ourselves_… And by 'we' I mean Kay, Dinadan, and Menw. Hoel in a pinch. Kings trump princes."

"Up yours!" Kay bit sharply.

"No prostitution," Lot said seriously. "We aren't destitute enough for anyone to fall to _that_. You're a merchant, Dinadan. Ply your trade. You have more skills than just getting up skirts and into pants."

"Merchants need merchandise to move," Dinadan replied. "We have none."

"So I'll give you an investment. You can figure it out from there," Lot said, rolling his eyes.

"I mean, if you're offering. But I would need to research the market before even _beginning_ to decide what kind of product to buy," Dinadan replied. "Getting up a functioning business that's sustainable isn't a short order."

"We can wait. We have manual labourer Kay to pick up the slack for you while you're getting established," Lot said.

"Or Kay can do magic tricks, if he'd prefer to show off his particular we'll say 'talents' that way," Alexander added.

"I can labour as well as the next man," Kay grumbled. "It might do me good."

"I'm n-not sure wh-what I can do," Hoel said. Jekyll gave him a curious look. The stutter was new.

"Breathe, Hoel, don't let that stress stutter come back," Menw said in concern. "You might not have to do anything. I can make enough a pretty penny as a magician."

"I suppose the circus could do with such a talent, but I feel like that would be somewhat degrading," Jekyll said with a frown.

"What's a circus?" Hoel asked.

"Um… this," Jekyll replied, pulling a poster off a wall and handing it over, then picking up a paper that was nearby advertising the same. "Animals, acrobats, clowns—court fools is probably about the equivalent to clowns—and anomalous humans they call 'freaks'."

"That seems… rude," Lot said, looking a bit surprised at that.

"It's what _I_ am," Menw said, shrugging. "And what the Fairy Tale Creatures under Farquaad's reign were seen as, I'd guess. I could make money in such a position."

"Not enough," Jekyll said. "They're hardly paid very well I don't think."

"I could freelance for them," Menw said. "Or play it like I'm just a magical act or something. Do circuses have those?"

"I'm sure if it brings in a crowd, they'd be happy for it, but I couldn't say," Jekyll answered.

"I'm not sure what use _I'll_ be," Hoel said ruefully.

"If you need to work, you can help me establish a business. You know how to negotiate, don't you? You were a prince, after all," Dinadan said.

"Maybe… I'll try," Hoel replied.

"Worry about all that later. For now, we need to make you all look like respectable folk in these parts," Jekyll said. "The clothes are fine and well, but you're going to need to look more regal than this. Your sort does not simply walk everywhere they go. We need a carriage and a driver to steer it."

"I can do that!" Hoel said quickly. "If that's what gives an impression of wealth and influence, it has to be done."

"Very prominent men go around with valets often. That is, men who dress them," Jekyll said. "Often they travel with more staff than that too, but we have limited resources here it seems. Only six of you. You might send word to Avalon to beg Arthur to negotiate for a few more of you to be sent up."

"Menw, you're my valet," Lot said.

"Do I have any say in this?" Menw asked, frowning a bit.

"No," Lot replied. "Alisander can have Dinadan.

"Excuse me?!" Dinadan demanded.

"Oh don't be sore. You get to look at _my_ glory regularly," Alexander said.

Dinadan frowned then smirked, mildly amused. "It _is_ quite a glory, I have to admit," he confessed.

"And Hoel is the chauffeur which leaves Kay to be… I'm not sure yet, but we'll figure it out as questions are asked," Jekyll said.

"He was Arthur's Seneschal, or steward," Lot offered.

"We'll go with that if it comes down to it then," Jekyll said.

"We're in your hands, doctor," Lot said, shrugging. "None of _us_ have a clue about your customs in this day and age."

"First things first, the purchase of a carriage," Jekyll said. "Or at least the lending of one. We can hardly take horses and a _carriage_ over the sea with much simplicity."

"I can become the horse to draw the coach," Menw said. "Spare us money."

"Also risky, but if you feel you can pull it off without arousing suspicion…" Jekyll said.

"I can," Menw stated.

"Then let's settle the matter of a carriage and start putting on a fabulous little show," Jekyll stated.

"Do I have to be in an outfit like you're in?" Mordred flatly asked.

"In nice clothes, at least. Upper-class," Jekyll said. "Even if they're play clothes, they must be nice enough that your father doesn't want you ruining them."

"That's no fun!" Mordred protested.

"I'll hardly keep you from playing in them, son," Lot said.

"You might once you see what play clothes for the upper-classes look like," Jekyll dryly stated, heading towards a store.

"Don't be ridiculous. They can't be… Oh my gods!" Lot exclaimed, hand going to his forehead and eyes widening in shock and horror. Jekyll didn't say a word.

Frozen

The carriage matter was sorted in not too long. They'd been able to rent a fine coach indeed, and Menw had shifted into the most stunning stallion Jekyll had ever seen! He'd almost been afraid to hitch the shapeshifter onto the coach, but Kay had no such qualms and had done it a little rougher than necessary Jekyll thought, but Menw had gotten back at him by stomping the man's foot. Kay had cursed up a storm and they'd stuffed him into the coach before he could turn heads, where he'd kept cursing a good few minutes before finally settling into a sulk vowing revenge. Lot had managed to school him into good behavior again, but Jekyll still felt like Menw had better keep watching his back for a while.

They rode through the midst of the city, turning heads as they went along and causing a good many whispers to ripple through the crowds. "Scotland is so different from what I remember," Lot murmured. "I'm not sure what to think."

"At the very least you don't outright despise it," Jekyll replied. They'd found a hotel to set up base from and had given Hoel the map. Jekyll hoped the young man was faring alright in his navigation. Other things, however, preoccupied the doctor's mind. He'd thought he'd seen Hyde among the crowds…

"This hotel, you said, was set up in a castle?" Alexander asked hopefully.

"It is," Jekyll replied. "A beautifully preserved one, I would add. I think you'll find it quite to your tastes."

"No doubt," Lot replied, watching the passing scenery out the window. They'd broken away from the city now and were riding through the beautiful landscapes of Scotland. He couldn't tear his eyes away from them. Few of them _could_. Jekyll determined to leave them to their thoughts and focus more on his own concerns. Particularly over Hyde possibly stalking him.

"Carados would have loved to see it again," Kay remarked solemnly after a moment. "He was a king of Scotland," he explained to Jekyll as an afterthought.

Frozen

They approached the castle. Every knight's eye was fixated on it. Jekyll had to marvel at them. "This place… I know it," Lot said. Jekyll started, amused smile falling to surprise. "It was… Caradoc… This was his home…"

Jekyll was quiet. "Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea," he said after a time, feeling a bit uneasy at the notion. What would they think, to walk into a castle that had once been a home and see it so commercialized, filled with perfect strangers wandering around everywhere giving no thought to its history or how its master would have felt to see it as it was now?

"It's fine," Lot replied, though he said nothing more. His eyes were fixed on the palace.

Jekyll was unsure what to say to that. He shifted a bit worriedly. "Let _me_ do the talking and introducing," he said to them as Hoel reigned Menw in and climbed from the carriage seat to open the doors for the others. Jekyll exited first and looked around. It was late, which was all the better. Fewer eyes to witness their arrival. The others followed him out. They entered the grand castle, the main hall, and looked around it ruefully, obviously not sure what to think but thus far not being overly impressed. This great hall they had entered was doubtless not anything like they would have remembered it to be… That was to say perhaps it was, but what had been done with it would be completely foreign and unsettling to them no doubt. Jekyll could only imagine how they were feeling in that moment. He approached the desk to check them in. "May I introduce the Duke of the Northern Isles and the… Duke of… Thira," he said to the concierge.

The concierge seemed to have a mini panic attack before finding himself again and looking over. "Of course, sir, I shall find the manager at once," the man said in a rush. He came out from behind the desk. "Highnesses," he greeted, bowing quickly to Lot and Alexander before hurrying away.

Lot gave Jekyll an unimpressed look. "Duke?" he asked almost disdainfully.

"Well I couldn't very well claim you were a king of the Northern Isles or one of its princes. Word would probably get to the real things and then we'd be in a mess indeed," Jekyll said. "And I'm fairly sure the same thing goes for Alisander."

"_I_ wasn't going to complain," Alisander said, shrugging. Lot gave him a sharp look and he bit his tongue, flushing a bit guiltily. Lot harrumphed, looking away again.

Momentarily the concierge returned with the hotel manager, who looked almost overwhelmed but was more composed than his underling was. "My Lords," he greeted Lot and Alexander, bowing to them. "We've been expecting your arrivals, but to see you in person… We're honored you have chosen our hotel to stay in during your visit."

"The history of this place quite fascinates me," Lot replied, looking around it.

"And it is fascinating indeed, highness. Forgive our lackluster greeting. We were expecting you much later in the evening," the manager stated, standing straight again. "I'll get a man out to stable your stallion and coach."

"There's no need, we assure you. Our chauffeur is quite capable of it, but thank you for your generous offer," Alexander said, smiling at the man. He turned, nodding to Hoel. Hoel nodded back, bowing, and left to take care of the coach and get Menw to come back with him. "He'll return shortly with Duke Lot's personal valet," Alisander stated, turning back to the manager with a pleasant smile.

"Yes of course. My lords, anything you would like we will bend over backwards to give," the manager said. "What are your plans for supper? Should you like, I can make sure the dining room is cleared at the hour you determine so you might eat in peace."

"We hardly want you to inconvenience your guests on our account," Lot said.

"Not an inconvenience at all my lords!" the man replied.

"Of course it is good man, and we wouldn't ask it of you," Alisander assured. "We ask only that we get a decent tour of the place, hear a bit of its history, and retire comfortably to our rooms to take our meals there."

"One man's desire," Lot said to his son-in-law under his breath, sounding unimpressed.

"Father-in-law, please," Alexander replied in the same undertone. Lot huffed but let it go, which Alexander was grateful for. Hoel returned with Menw in tow and the group was shown to their rooms.

PKMN

As they walked through the hotel with the manager, who was giving a tour, they looked around at the place. It was so changed… "This castle was originally a dark ages marvel of a ruin. It was purchased by a prince in the thirteen-hundreds who obtained it when it was in a state of deep disrepair. The prince refused to demolish the ruins of the previous castle, though, believing the damage was not so great that it could not be salvaged. The castle was large, but the prince was passionate about preserving it. He ensured it was restored to its full beauty in short order indeed.

Sometime in the fifteen hundreds or so, the castle came into the possession of a separate noble family and the majority of it, say the large front part, was sealed off completely. No one really knows why. Rumors spread of ghosts wandering the halls, but the man who had taken it over insisted it was no such matter and that the thing in its entirety was simply too big. He had also said something about respecting the history and preserving the past for when its owner returned… He was more than a little eccentric, that one. Insisted it had been the residence of one of King Arthur's knights, and he believed fully the old legend that Arthur and his knights would return from Avalon in Britain's time of great need. Rubbish of course, all of it, but it is certainly something marvellous to imagine."

"Is that part of this palace still accessible? The larger portion?" Menw asked.

"I would imagine it once was, but no one knows where it was sealed off anymore," the manager replied.

"The back of the grand hall," Lot murmured. The manager looked curiously back at him. Lot bit his tongue and quickly thought up an excuse. "The layout was, I imagine, a sound one. Likely there would have been a grand door in the back of the throne room leading to corridors that branched off into the rest of the castle. The whole of the palace was likely just too much for the owner who took over it in the sixteenth century to handle. Why keep the whole great castle when the first part of it was perfectly livable and probably more manageable?"

"Intriguing. I'd never thought it would be that obvious," the man replied.

"Many tend to overlook the blatantly obvious. It's why the saying 'hiding in plain sight' exists," Hoel stated.

"There would have been other points sealed off as well. Perhaps behind where we're standing now," Alexander said, drawing a hand across the wallpaper that had been put in place there. "Perhaps even in some of the rooms. Shutting it all off would have given this portion of it a more manageable, less overwhelming aesthetic without either losing the character or betraying the fact there was a whole other world concealed here…"

Quiet. "You all seem quite knowledgeable," the manager remarked, sounding a bit puzzled.

"History is a passion of mine," Lot said. "I indulge it more than a little and talk incessantly on about it to whoever will listen. Which most often encompasses my staff and son-in-law here." The manager still looked a bit weirded out, but he took it at face value and shrugged, smiling at them and continuing the tour. The knights looked once more at the blocked off wall, then followed him.

Frozen

The knights, minus Mordred who was fast asleep in his shared room with Lot, stood looking out from the battlement of a tower and over the abandoned portion of the castle. It was still so beautiful, despite the disrepair it had fallen into. "It's due for some restoration," Jekyll remarked. "They'll do so, have no worries about that. In the end this place is still of significant historical value they would do well to continue to preserve."

"Hmm… They gave me his room… The gods are laughing at us…" Lot murmured. "It feels… wrong. To sleep where Carados once slept."

Jekyll was quiet. "You could ask to be downgraded," he soon offered.

"Mordred is already settled. No need to disturb him and move him to a new room. He might react badly upon waking up in a different spot than the one he fell asleep in," Lot said with a sigh. No one answered. "What, no sarcastic wisecrack?" Lot asked. Probably about how he was probably just saying that because he was only talking out his backside and actually was quite pleased to be in the Caradoc's room, which he wasn't.

"Gareth isn't here to pull them," Kay replied quietly.

Lot's jaw twitched a bit. "No. He isn't," he replied finally.

Jekyll shifted a bit uncomfortably, feeling out of place. "Tomorrow we can head back to the city and you can do a little exploring. Perhaps later in the morning or in the afternoon, depending on your sleep schedules," he finally said, trying to lighten their spirits.

"I could fly us down there," Menw said. It was like they hadn't heard Jekyll as all. "Just… so we can see it again. It was more sentimental to Carados than to us perhaps, but it was still a part of us."

"We could enter it legitimately too," Hoel cryptically said. They turned, looking at him curiously. "As a prince I was made aware of pretty well every escape tunnel of every royal castle we visited. Including this one. There is still a way into the old castle. One they could not have known about and sealed."

Silence. "What do we have to lose?" Dinadan asked finally, shrugging. "I'm for it."

"Why wasn't _I_ made aware of it?" Alexander asked.

"Because you were Greek," Lot bit.

Alexander started and frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?!" he demanded.

"Exactly what it sounds like. You were a foreign emperor. What did anyone care what happened to _you_? Your death would have led to my daughter or grandson's rule of your entire kingdom and would have forged a stronger tie to Britain than the one that existed with you on the throne," Lot replied.

"You suck Lot!" Alisander shot, crossing his arms sulkily. "I'll have you know I was a perfectly strong tie to Britain!"

"Yes, well, the people who would have been told to brief you about the escape route obviously didn't share that belief. I have no doubt Caradoc wanted them to tell you as well, but he rarely followed up on things like that in person, even for us, so it's not a surprise _you_ were left out in the dark," Lot said. Alexander huffed, but he supposed that in some strange, twisted way that made some measure of sense. He was competition, a potential thorn in the sides of the kings of Brittania. His death would have only benefited them. Which… made him really touched that so many of them had become his brothers instead.

Hoel looked to Jekyll. "We heard your words, physician. We agree with your plan too. It should be interesting to explore the city a bit. But first…"

"I understand," Jekyll said, nodding. They were clinging to the last remnants of a life and a world that was no more. They were clinging to them for all they were worth. He would not deprive him of those memories.

"You are welcome to come, Doctor. In fact, we invite it," Lot said, seeming to remember his presence as well. Jekyll nodded gratefully.

Frozen

Hoel led them down into the bowels of the hotel. A storage room that once had been a large wine cellar extending deep into the depths of the castle. He looked around, scanning the walls with a bit of a frown on his face as he tried to get his bearings. It had been over a thousand years, after all. He looked ahead and paused abruptly. After a second, he started towards a wall of decorative kegs. He handed the torch off to Jekyll. "Kay, help me move this," he said to Kay.

"Very well," Kay said. He joined Hoel and together the two of them moved it slowly out of the way. Hoel felt behind the wall for a moment before pausing. He felt over a spot again, then inserted his thumb into a notch. There was a creaking, scraping noise, loud and piercing that had them wincing. This passage, door, whatever it was, hadn't been used for centuries. Slowly it ground its way open, but not very far. The mechanism was too old and worn to be able to manage it. They would have to squeeze in, which wasn't fun by the way. Especially not for Kay, the biggest one of them. He cursed up a storm as he wormed his way through it to join the rest of him, who were giving him unimpressed glares. He cursed _them_ out too for their condescending looks, then stormed onward, looking around.

A few feet in, Kay stopped. "Are we sure this leads to the rest of the castle if it's an escape route?" he asked.

"There are multiple entrances into it. It wasn't the most secure of designs for escape tunnels. If even one entrance was found the whole thing would have been compromised. That, however, hadn't been Carados's call. That was his grandfather's plan, I think?" Hoel said. "He told me there was another tunnel that went straight from his bedroom and led to escape. A private one separate from this."

"Why did he tell _you_ all this?" Alisander asked.

"Because I showed an interest?" Hoel flatly replied, narrowing his eyes at the others with an unimpressed look. "That's what happens when you take the initiative and ask questions. You learn stuff."

"Quit emulating Gareth and get your scrawny backside in gear, how about?" Dinadan replied, giving him an unimpressed look. Hoel rolled his eyes and led the way again in silence.

"Sarcasm runs rampant in your family," Menw dryly said to Lot.

"Arthur's family. Mine too, but it was happy coincidence that three sarcastic, snarky families would marry into each other. Harald and Lillian—Lillian tied to Arthur's bloodline—and me, who married Arthur's sister," Lot replied.

"_Happy_ coincidence?" Jekyll asked. Lot gave him a look. He shut up. Hoel suddenly stopped and began feeling around another wall. Soon he pressed his thumb into another knot and a second panel slid open, this one much more willingly. Hoel paused, staring into the blackness, then took a breath and stepped inside with his torch…

The firelight lit up the ancient, musty halls, empty and drafty and so utterly quiet… Gloomy. Sad… Abandoned and alone… But they recognized it and knew it… "This hallway… It emerges not far from the doorway that was blocked up in the hotel," Lot remarked. "It led to every other room in this palace. Dining halls, servants' quarters, training rooms, war rooms, libraries, studies, bedrooms, kitchens, washing rooms… Such an obvious place to look for a passage."

"Caradoc and his bloodline loved the 'hiding in plain sight' strategy," Alexander said, looking around. "It never failed him. Or almost never did."

The hallway was haunting in the glow of the fire, eerie and echoey. Cobwebs and spiderwebs abounded. A film of dust and dirt covered everything, but it was beautiful still. The knights began to walk along the hallway quietly, peering into rooms as they passed them by. Jekyll was utterly fascinated with absolutely everything he was seeing, but he still felt like a tagalong. Nevertheless, what an expedition to be tagging along _with_…

"It's beautiful. In its own haunting, eerie way," the doctor remarked.

"Very beautiful," Dinadan said quietly in a murmur. "And still it was nothing like the castle in Camelot… Every castle I have ever seen has paled in comparison to its beauty and majesty."

"It must have been a sight to behold," Jekyll replied.

"It would have stolen your breath away," Menw said.

"This has already done so," Jekyll stated, though his eyes were on them. Well into the night they continued to travel around the abandoned portion of the castle before finally they could delay no more and were forced to return…


	6. Hyde Emerges

.

Hyde Emerges

(A/N: Haven't edited this chapter too much, so here's hoping there are no glaring errors. Enjoy.)

The ice mare whinnied when, upon reaching Anna's house, Elsa reigned it in harsher than intended. The horse reared up. Elsa held on tight until it went down again, then leapt from her back and ran to the door, pounding on it. "Anna? Anna, let me in! Anna!" The door opened to Kristoff. "Kristoff, where's Anna?!" Elsa demanded.

"Anna? She wasn't feeling well. She went up to bed. Elsa, what's wrong?" he asked in concern.

"Oh gods!" she exclaimed, shoving passed Kristoff.

"Elsa, wait! Elsa!" Kristoff called out. He went after her quickly. "What's going on?!"

Elsa ran into her sister's room. Anna was sitting tiredly in bed, playing with Gerda. She looked over in surprise, though, on hearing the door slamming open. Elsa gave a cry and raced forward, snatching the baby and backing quickly away, looking at her sister in horror. "Elsa?! What the hell?!" Anna demanded. "I mean heck!" she quickly covered. "What are you doing with my baby?!"

"Anna, what did you do in China? What did you do, Anna?!" Elsa demanded urgently, backing away from her shocked sister in terror.

"I-I did the whole politic thing like you and Hans wanted!" Anna insisted. "Give me Gerda!"

"Anna, what else did you do?!" Elsa demanded.

"I-I… I mean I helped some poor farmer bury his wife and some of his children. They'd gotten sick and died, and he was so broken and I just… I hated seeing him like that! No one else would help him!"

"Oh my god!" Elsa exclaimed.

"Wh-what did I do? What's wrong?" Anna asked.

"Anna. Anna, oh my gods, Anna," Elsa said, voice wavering. She looked like she wanted to go to her sister, in fact stepping forward, but then she fell back right away. "Anna, you shouldn't have… You should have asked _why_ no one else was helping him."

"Wh-why? What did it matter?" Anna asked, visibly unnerved.

"Sweetie, sweetie listen to me and don't panic because-because there's no guarantee, okay? There's no guarantee, I promise," Elsa said.

"Elsa, you're scaring me! What's going on?!" Anna demanded insistently.

"Anna, honey, there's… there's been an outbreak. In China. Of a very, very serious sickness, okay?" Elsa said.

"What?" Anna asked, gripping the covers tightly now and looking pale.

"I… You can't freak out because it's not certain you picked it up but…" Elsa began.

"Elsa, what outbreak?!" Anna demanded. "_I_ wasn't told anything!"

"I… P-plague, Anna… Bubonic plague… The Black Death," Elsa said numbly, clutching the now crying Gerda close.

"Oh my god!" Kristoff exclaimed, almost collapsing in the doorway but managing to grip onto it in time to keep from falling. Anna had gone white, eyes wide in shock and horror. Elsa let out a shuddering breath, grip on Gerda tightening.

"There… there… wh-what…? But-but that can't be. There hasn't been-been an epidemic of p-plague since the seventeenth century!" Anna finally managed to blurt, clinging to her blankets.

"I know, sis, I know, and like I said it's not a guarantee that's why you're feeling sick, but-but when you were there, _it_ was too. I didn't know. If I had I never would have sent you! The news came to me after you came back. Just-just today…" Elsa said. Anna was utterly silent, eyes wide and lips parted numbly as she looked down in denial. "It's no guarantee," Elsa said again, voice wavering.

"I-I… You need to go. You-you need to go! You and-and Kristoff and… Oh gods, Gerda! You need to take Gerda away from here! Away from _me_!" Anna screamed, freaking suddenly.

"There's no guarantee," Elsa numbly said.

"Elsa please! I can't lose them, I can't! I don't want to make them sick or you or anybody!" Anna panicked.

"Anna, there's no guarantee, there's no guarantee!" Elsa screamed desperately. Gerda was wailing now, sensing the fear in the air and getting afraid. "Gerda, please, stop it. Please," she pled to the baby.

"You need to get Jekyll back! You need to get him back right now!" Anna sobbed. "Take them! Take my husband and baby and go! Just go!"

"Anna, I'm not leaving you!" Kristoff insisted.

"You have to!" she shrieked. "You have to! Go!"

Meanwhile

The knights took breakfast in their rooms and all gathered together in Lot's. As the eldest king here, it was he who acted as their nucleus it seemed. Mordred was still slumbering away, content in the bed he had shared with his adopted father. "So then, the plan for today is a city exploration, correct?" Jekyll asked.

"Yes. Then perhaps a walk through the highland fields," Lot replied. "We may be somewhat delayed, though. Mordred is going to sleep for at least another hour."

"We'll take that time to get ready," Dinadan said. "He's a child. Get him into some of his less-nice clothes, scrub his face, and he's good to go. He won't take fifteen minutes to dress up. Not for a guy as skilled in caring for brats as you are, Lot."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Lot said, raising an eyebrow at Dinadan.

"I mean five of your own plus two adoptees. Pretty good experience I'd say," Dinadan said, shrugging. "We should be on our way. Let the kid sleep a little longer." He rose. The others followed suite, each of them bowing to Lot before leaving the room. Jekyll followed their example, doing the same.

"I'm afraid I'll be busy in town today, so I won't be able to accompany you," the doctor said.

"You have no need to. You won't be the only one wandering off to pursue their own interests," Lot replied, shrugging.

"Keep a close eye on that boy, and should he have a bad spell or a fit, get him out of sight," Jekyll warned seriously again. "You don't want to see him committed."

"No one will be committing him without my express permission. Which I'll never give," Lot said. "We'll handle the situation firmly and swiftly, should it arise."

"No murder," Jekyll said. "You aren't a king here, and even if you were things aren't as lenient as I assume they were in the Dark Ages."

"Murder was frowned on in the Dark Ages as well, I'll have you know. You would have doubtless been executed for it. That said, I suppose that when I _did_ commit such acts, my position as king certainly ensured little could be done about it. Fortunately, I wasn't prone to wanton, unjust murder," Lot said.

"Good. Keep a calm head, no matter _what_ people may say to you should they catch Mordred fitting," Jekyll said before leaving with another, final bow. Lot's eyes drifted concernedly over to Mordred, still fast asleep on the bed curled up in a little ball…

Frozen

Mordred hurried excitedly through the streets looking all around in eager curiosity. Lot hurried behind him, keeping the child in sight and in his firm grasp, which Mordred insisted on trying to pull out of. Lot promptly corrected each of those ill-fated attempts at escape by catching up again and seizing the boy's hand once more. He was becoming annoyed at the constant fight Mordred was putting up, but it seemed the boy had settled a bit now, content to walk hand in hand with him while looking all around. He wouldn't be foolish enough to believe that was the end of the child's shenanigans, though.

Lot looked around. Strange fashions these people had in this time. He didn't approve of them. They were constricting and hot and uncomfortable. He cursed his distraction when Mordred, seeming to sense he wasn't paying attention, pulled away yet again and scrambled off. Lot gave an exasperated look at Alexander that silently pled for him to take a turn dealing with it. Alexander sighed and raced after Mordred, quickly catching him and dragging him right back to his adoptive father with a look of annoyance on his face while Mordred protested. This time the both of them kept firm grasp of Mordred's hands as Mordred sulked.

"When you've settled enough that we can be sure you won't race out of sight, maybe we'll let you go," Alisander stated.

Mordred stuck out his tongue then hopped up into the air. Lot and Alexander swung him obligingly before setting him down. Mordred giggled in excitement and did it again. At least he wasn't trying to run off, they determined, so they allowed the play for a while. "I'm not sure where to even start here," Lot said.

"A fineries shop," Alexander said. "All we have to our names are the couple sets of clothing Dinadan had on him. We're supposed to be nobility. It won't be long before people realize we're wearing the same things over and over, and if we're staying here for long that won't do."

"We can't risk spending much of what we have right now," Lot reminded.

"Kay is hiring himself out as a manual laborer as we speak. Menw is either looking into this 'circus' aspect Jekyll talked of or is putting on a show for money with his 'abilities'. He's unique enough that it will bring in a good amount of pocket change, maybe even get him a billing as a magician or actor with some theatre. Dinadan meanwhile is probably in the process of researching the market along with Hoel. Dinadan is extremely good at what he does and charismatic enough to sell a stick to a starving man and make it sound like he's doing the sap a favor by handing him life itself. Dinadan and Hoel will settle up with some sort of money-making venture, or make some sort of investment, soon enough," Alexander replied. "We can remain here long enough for them to do so."

"Hoel had best be keeping Dinadan away from deprived areas," Lot dryly said. "That man worries me when he casually mentions prostituting himself. Very little has been 'casual' with Dinadan for a long, long time, as much as he might pretend he isn't serious or isn't concerned about a proposition he makes."

"Hoel will make sure he doesn't do anything stupid," Alisander assured. He looked down at Mordred. "What would _you_ like to do, pipsqueak?"

Mordred gave him an annoyed frown before thinking a moment. "I wanna see the circus," he stated practically like it was the best idea in the world and would actually be useful to their current predicament. "Then I wanna go the park, I think I it was called? I read it on a fancy sign posted above an entrance to what just looked like gardens to me; but I heard other kids playing so something fun must be inside it."

"We could do some investigating into how well Menw may or may not be paid, should he try for a job with them after all," Lot remarked.

"Travelling circus. I found one of the poster's and read it through a bit more thoroughly a street or two back. They move around. Unless we want Menw regularly leaving us, it won't be ideal for our situation," Alexander stated. "That said, _I'm_ curious about it too."

"Very well. I don't see what harm it could do," Lot said, though he sounded cautious.

"The show is later on in the day. We can go to the park first," Alexander stated. "The location as well is a little way out of the city on the highland fields and cliffs, which we intended to all go and visit after this bit of exploration anyway."

"Then it's settled. Show us where this park was, darling," Lot said to Mordred. Mordred nodded and immediately started pulling them both towards where he'd seen the sign over the open gateway.

Frozen

"No," Hoel flat out stated when he spotted Dinadan thoughtfully eying up a brothel. "Not as a business, not as a job, not for the pleasure of it. Just no all around."

Dinadan smirked at him, eyes mischievous. "Spoilsport," he replied. He consulted the list he'd been making. "Clothing we can't do, none of us are tailors. Toys are somewhat promising. Directing specialized classes is another promising possibility. We can teach a few keeners how to wield weapons like swords or how to fire bows. Baked goods are out because none of us are bakers…"

"You started off as a miller, Dinadan. You know _that_ trade well enough, and how to advance it in short order," Hoel offered.

"We have no mill at our disposal and no money to build or buy one," Dinadan said. "The mill and fields were inherited from my father. If I were to go that route now solo, it would cost me wages for sowers, reapers, farmers, millers, bakers… It's too much an expense right now and it doesn't seem to be the best business potential in this area anyway."

"Toys are cheap, I suppose, and easy to improvise, but you'd still have to find a supplier and pay for their services," Hoel stated. "Those promise not to be too abundant here."

"A bookshop? We know a writer in Hans. We could always peddle _his_ books," Dinadan said. "And Jekyll knows another author as well, maybe even more than just two."

"Bookshops and libraries aren't rare here. We've just passed the forth one I've seen," Hoel stated. "Giving lessons though could be a good idea. You mentioned that earlier."

"I suppose it could tide us over until we find something better to do, yes. And if it's profitable then maybe we won't _need_ to investigate another business venture. We're posing as men who are part of a royal household. Seeing us doing manual labor will fast kill that image. We could pass off lessons in weapon use as a hobby our lords allowed us to do."

"How would we go about gaining clients?" Hoel asked.

"We mingle with the upper classes at some party or other. Lot is believed to be a Duke, as is Alisander. Some old-fashioned string-pulling or trickery would easily enough garner him an invitation to a social gathering in which the upper class abounds. Then we casually stroll around dropping hints here and there about our hobby and of how we take it upon ourselves to teach others who show interest. Being able to wield a weapon in this day and age, as far as I can tell, is a status symbol. One the elite would chase after as enthusiastically as a dog chases a meaty bone. An example of showmanship and a bragging right," Dinadan said. "I could sell the idea."

"I suppose it's our best option until we stumble on something better," Hoel said. "A pity Bleoberis wasn't sent up with us. He was among the minority of us who actually had a feasible trade. Blacksmithing. He could have been made a supplier if he'd come along, selling weapons or horseshoes and other such things. Merchant is of course a feasible trade, but getting set up as one takes a lot of work and is always a pretty big risk. Hmm… Aside from prostitution, what can sex appeal reel in?"

"The opposite sex; and sometimes the same," Dinadan replied.

"That's not what I mean. I mean if we can find a product that appeals to everyone in general, and use looks to draw in customers as well as your charisma, we could make a killing," Hoel said. "Perfumes, perhaps? Spices? Bolts of cloth?"

"Feasable if we had business connections to the Middle East or Asia," Dinadan said. "Exotic goods always sell for a fat profit. We have neither at the moment, though."

"_We_ don't, but perhaps the King of the Southern Isles or the Queen of Arendelle do," Hoel stated. "They've helped us greatly thus far. Why would they not help us in this too? As long as Lot and Alexander are masquerading as Dukes, they should have some sort of claim to the part. Connections could make that claim all the more feasible. If they can share connections with King Caleb and Queen Elsa, they're starting to get a very, very good footing."

"What else would help is their actually having something to _rule_ over," Dinadan dryly said.

"Yet another thing that having the rest of us up here would help along," Hoel said with a sigh. "A pity we couldn't have all returned."

"More of us might yet show up as they're needed, depending on how desperate the situation gets. Hold onto that hope," Dinadan replied.

"It still won't be all of us. All of us would have given Lot something of a believable Dutchy to rule over. What do we have really? The ruins of an ancient castle and what remains of the town that once shared that particular Isle with it. Gods only know what happened to the rest of the kingdom of Orkney, or even Lothian," Hoel said.

"We'll build on that," Dinadan said. "You know… real estate is profitable. If Lot were to claim he had moved from his original castle into another solitary one on a separate Island, he could state that his reasons for doing so were that he desired to found another town elsewhere. Play up the location, leave the peddling to me, and we could feasibly get an actual legitimate sustainable community going on… It would require planning something out, restoring ancient buildings sitting in ruins… Or leaving that matter to those who buy the property."

"Lot would need to make large investments, put money into building materials, all of that," Hoel said.

"Money he would get from my selling off those properties. Hoel, _we_ could actually do this. We could actually resurrect that one little remaining sliver of what once was Orkney! We could give Lot a legitimate claim! A legitimate foothold, however small, to an actual Dukedom," Dinadan said.

"Din, it would have to all be done under the nose of the King of Scotland! Considering Orkney is integrated into Scotland now, of course. If Orkney is a Dukedom in this day and age, building up a town would have to be done under the Duke's nose as well! And what if all of this is under the authority of England's ruler? The political dancing, the dishonesty, the trickery, the illegality, it's…"

"Attainable," Dinadan cut off. "It's attainable, illegal or otherwise. Maybe it can start out illegal, that's all well and good, but clearly no one's given a thought to the island Lot's castle is on, because if they had they would have found that castle and probably turned it into some historical landmark or other! The archaeological potential of that place is ridiculous! If they had known it was out there, they would have sought it and found it and claimed it long ago. And even if we wanted to make it all well and legal, if only to cover our tails, we still could! I can persuade most anyone into anything. Do some research, find out who 'owns' that island, get me an audience, and that location will be purchased before the year is out! And whatever other undeveloped island Lot may or may not show interest in buying up. We have benefactors in a King and a Queen, we have real estate potential, we have all the tools we need to make this happen, and the money we earn here in the interim will all go towards that goal."

Hoel was silent, staring at him. "You… you really think you can make this work," he said in wonder.

"I'm certain I can," Dinadan said. "Scratch that. I'm certain _Lot_ can. I can do the negotiating, Lot can to the buying and selling… Yes, brother, yes, we can make this work!"

Hoel thought. "Then let's," he finally said, lifting his head determinedly once more to face Dinadan. "The moment we meet with Lot and the others, this discussion comes into play. Jekyll can be the messenger if need be, but postage may be quick enough. If we can actually make this work, if we can make connections with Arabia and Asia and build off of those connections and somehow force and scrape and buy and sell our way into developing our own standalone economy, into building our own town, into forming our own _Dukedom_, then we do it." Dinadan smirked wickedly. It might not be a Dukedom per se, more a mayoral he believed the term was, but having even that could well give the illusion of Dukedom and faux solidify Lot's unofficial claim to royalty… No one ever had to know Alexander's was totally fiction. Greece was too far and away removed for anyone in these parts to care.

Frozen

Lot listened to Dinadan's pitch in wide eyed shock. They'd met up for lunch and Dinadan had taken the opportunity to pull him aside while Kay was ranting and complaining about being turned into a manual laborer, and while Menw was happily speaking about the delight in the eyes of little children and other observers as he'd performed his shape-shifting tricks for them. "By the gods, you're actually serious about this," Lot said.

"If my brother Daniel could trick his way into the title of Marquis, why not you into the title of Duke?" Dinadan replied, smirking.

"Daniel wasn't the one doing the trickery," Lot said.

"And you won't be either, but the result will be the same," Dinadan said. "At worst it fails, but we still get the money from the purchases and the connections to the Middle East and Asia. My business venture still thrives, you still bring in money."

Lot looked around quickly before looking back to him. "This is insanity," he hissed.

"But possible," Dinadan replied. "You know how to schmooze with royalty, don't you? You know how to talk yourself up. Lot, if you can make the connections, I can do the rest. We can pull this off."

"It isn't as simple as that. We would each have roles to play and then there would be some roles that would have to be shared," Lot said, holding his chin thoughtfully. "I can secure invitation to a high-end social gathering, I can talk myself up, I can drop hints as to my interest in purchasing the island we're situated on perhaps discovering, in the process, who to go to, to purchase it from when we have the money to afford it. I can write to Caleb and Elsa and ask for their help in obtaining invitations to royal balls or get-togethers, I can ask for them to speak in my behalf to any connections they may have in the Middle East and Asia. I can refer those connections to you and you can give your buy-and-sell pitch to them. It will give us pocket change to start with. Then if you can work your magic to sell real estate under the table—I of course can supply you with the city plan, as I remember the town upon my main island like the back of my hand—we can use the money gained to purchase building materials or to give investments to those who buy it… With some stipulations and terms, we could actually… this could happen," Lot mused.

"Stipulations. Go," Dinadan said.

"There are a few options. Give the land away free with the term that they make it into something profitable and worthwhile. The money funnels into us; not all, but a portion of the profits. Shares, taxes, the like. That, however, would require men with money to take the land for free and pay a good sum out their own pockets to turn it into something decent for no guaranteed return. It could be too much a risk for many of them."

"Except we would have suppliers in Asia, the Middle East, Arendelle, the Southern Isles…" Dinadan said. "Another option is that we could give each person willing to take up the challenge an investment out our own pockets."

"Except that would require indebting ourselves to the Southern Isles and Arendelle further than we already are, or slow the process down considerably while we take the time to line our own pockets as best we can with virtually nothing," Lot said "A second option is to get them to buy the land and give the purchasers an investment to start their business from the money they paid to us. They think they're buying full price, but really they're getting a good-sized portion of it back so that they can build up their ventures to something great."

"They would need homes. That's another portion gone," Dinadan said.

"But still a profit, however miniscule it is. A profit we can use to buy building materials for them. Maybe we'd break even, perhaps even take a loss for a little while, but if things went well—as you say, we have two guaranteed trade partners with the potential for even more depending on how this search for connections goes—that would fast turn around," Lot said.

"It requires waiting to hear back from Elsa and Caleb," Dinadan said.

"Still less time than it would take us to line our own pockets," Lot replied.

"So, you're up for this then. You're actually on board," Dinadan said, honestly surprised himself at how interested in this idea the man seemed to be. He'd have thought it would take longer, but then Lot had always been a 'see the potential for the bigger picture' kind of guy. "This is an unimaginable risk, Lot. You know that, right?"

"I'm going to need you to prostitute yourself after all. Just not in the way you would think. I'll need to do it much the same," Lot said. "All of us will."

"Ah… Catch the eye of some noblewoman or nobleman, schmooze our way into a party invitation, lay the groundwork," Dinadan said, catching on. "Flirting I can do."

"And I will write also to Caleb and to Elsa and deal with that whole angle for myself. Alisander can help with that. A Greek would be in a better position to negotiate with the Middle East and the Asia's than a Scot would besides," Lot said. "He could build a foundation, a repertoire, and I could come in once any potential tension was smoothed out."

"So, we're going all in?" Dinadan said.

"We're going all in," Lot confirmed. "We have nothing to lose and everything to gain." Dinadan grinned in excitement.

Frozen

Jekyll didn't attend the circus with the knights. His focus was on something else. A suspicion of Hyde's presence had by now turned into certainty, and he was on the prowl, eyes open for any sign of his other half. His eyes were narrowed warily as he walked in the gradually descending afternoon sun, the sounds of circus music distant and haunting behind him. The highland fields were a lonely, isolated place to run into someone as dangerous as Hyde… But Hyde did not want his death, and so he was not afraid of that fate. Hyde wanted his suffering. He should probably be more concerned about torture than murder, but kidnapping and torture thus far were not a large part of Hyde's modus operandi. It was becoming slightly more common the longer Hyde was independent of him, but it was still something the man reserved only for those he thought would lure Jekyll to him, and rarely did the kidnapping serve any other purpose than to draw him out. At that point, the victims of the incident became irrelevant. It had happened both with Louise and with Hans and Charles.

"Your new friends are unique," a gruff voice said off to the side. Dr. Jekyll turned. From around a solitary tree stepped Mr. Hyde.

"Oh?" Jekyll asked.

"I saw the boy. In the park. He had a fit. It frightened the other children. Police came to investigate. The child's… father, I'll assume, was adamant he would control his son and that the police need not take him away for a psychiatric evaluation. I assume they got that tip from you. I'm… not convinced they have any real clue what a lunatic asylum actually is. They seem very… dated, to know such a thing," Hyde said.

"Why do you beat around the bush, Edward? What sort of fool do you take me for really? For how long have you known what those men are?"

"I know because _you_ do," Hyde replied. "I am separated from you physically, Henry. Mentally, though… that's a little more complicated."

There was silence. "What do you plan to do?" Jekyll finally asked, resisting the urge to tell Hyde to stay away from the boy. If Hyde wasn't in fact certain who, or what, Mordred was or had been, he wasn't about to give it away. Mordred would be a weak link Hyde would leap upon with savagery.

Hyde smirked and began to slowly hum a haunting sounding tune that made the hairs on the back of Jekyll's neck stand on end. The lullaby… Hyde trailed off into dark chuckling. "She was a wicked and cruel mother. A wicked and cruel woman… You dream, Henry… You may not remember them all, but I do. Just as I don't remember all my dreams but feel that you certainly do." Jekyll was utterly silent. "You do well to keep him from me," Hyde finally added, turning to walk away. "What? You won't tell me to stay away from him?"

"It will not stop you from trying… It is not my duty besides to protect that child from _you_. The ones whose job it is, though, are so, so very far beyond your league," Jekyll replied.

"Fortunately for predators, the little ones don't always stay in the protection of the herd," Hyde answered. "They tend to like to wander at every given opportunity… It will only take one slip, Henry. One solitary slip, and that boy will be mine."

"That boy is so very far beyond your league," Jekyll replied, shaking his head. "Pray he doesn't have so much as a dagger on him when you accost him, considering he'll even need one."

"Oh, I don't need to kidnap his body, Doctor. I just need a foothold into his mind," Hyde stated. Jekyll's jaw twitched. Hyde's smirk grew in satisfaction. "I thought so," he said. With that he turned, walking away from the doctor and humming the song again as he went. Jekyll glared after him darkly then turned and made quickly for the circus tent. The knights needed to be warned of this matter as soon as possible… He saw people exiting the tent talking and laughing as the circus show came to its end. They began to drift around to look at the other attractions present there as well, and Jekyll's pace quickened.

Frozen

"Where did Mordred go?" Alisander urgently asked Menw in fear, taking his arms. "Did you see him? Please tell me you saw him! If Lot finds out I let that brat out of my sight do you have any idea how _screwed_ I am?!"

"Whoa, calm down. I'll fly around and see if I can spot him. Just take a few breaths and keep calm. He can't have gotten far," Menw said.

"I turned around for two seconds!" Alexander, near a panic, said fearfully, looking terrified.

"He wanted to explore the highland fields and run around on them, didn't he? He's probably made a beeline for them. The freak show really unsettled him," Menw said. Of course said freak show had unsettled them all, and Menw was pretty sure Hoel and Kay were conspiring to find a way to free the people who were part of it or offer them something better even as they spoke, but Mordred was young and far more impressionable and emotionally unstable than the rest of them, so he had _really_ not had a good time of it.

"Then you search by air and I'll search by land!" Alexander said, immediately taking off. Menw, worried now, stepped out of sight and transformed into a bird before taking to the skies and starting to fly over the highland hills to try and spot the boy.

Frozen

Jekyll found Lot first, who was looking around in agitated annoyance looking something peeved. "What's wrong?" Jekyll asked.

"The others have completely vanished," Lot flatly replied. "Ugh, I leave them for five minutes… I'm fairly sure I know where Hoel and Kay are. They were unimpressed with the freak show, as we all were, but they were the most vehement against it and were already plotting in hearing range how they would rectify the wrong, offer the freaks something better, then promptly give them a way out of being sideshow spectacles," Lot said. Probably by shipping them to Orkney to start new lives there.

"Many choose to join of their own free will," Jekyll said. "Dehumanization or not, they still wanted the job."

Lot sighed, shaking his head. "Dinadan was with me until just recently. I'm not concerned over his whereabouts. He spotted a noblewoman he took a liking to and we have a plan regarding such a situation anyways, so I know he'll find me shortly enough. Menw has disappeared into thin air, though, as has Alisander who I tasked to watch Mordred," he said.

"The sooner we find them the better. My worse half is here, lingering about," Jekyll stated dryly. "It's best you leave this place as soon as possible. I'll remain to keep him lingering about in this area, ensuring you get away with the boy unscathed."

"Were we to kill Hyde, what would happen to you?" Lot asked.

"I don't know," Jekyll admitted honestly.

"Then we won't risk that his death means yours as well," Lot stated.

"One day you might _have_ to risk it," Jekyll stated.

"That day isn't today," Lot replied. "Come on then. Let's search for them." Jekyll nodded and followed Lot's lead.

Frozen

Mordred walked through the misty fields as the sun sank low in the sky, staring at the ground looking deeply disturbed. He hugged his arms tighter around himself. The day had started okay but then it got sad. He had a fit in the park and scared other children, then he wanted to see what the freak show was and regretted it, then they saw the circus and that was fun! Except he kept seeing the freaks in his mind and that made things not so enjoyable anymore. Some of them had been scary… Others he didn't understand why they were called freaks. Ultimately it was still all really sad to see and reminded him a lot about… about some of the others… That weren't here now… Because of what he'd done and who he was…

"Little boy, you are so very far from the circus and your family it seems! What are you doing way out on the rolling fields?" someone asked in a gruff voice.

Mordred looked curiously over and started, blinking in surprise at the unsettling looking man in front of him. He stared blankly. "Are you one of the freaks?" he uneasily asked.

The man started then scowled, looking offended, but quickly recovered with an amicable grin again. "No, little child, not at all. I am just a man," the man replied.

"You seem familiar," Mordred said.

"Perhaps my friend Dr. Jekyll has spoken of me," the man replied.

"You know Dr. Jekyll?" Mordred asked.

"Why yes! I know him as well as if he were… part of me," the man replied. "But that isn't important right now. What's important is why such a little boy is wandering so very alone in such an isolated place? So many evil things could befall you so far from others."

"I'm wandering because I like to walk?" Mordred bit borderline sarcastically.

"Precious," the man dryly replied, not impressed. He knelt down to the boy's height. Mordred glared at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion, and stepped back a step going on the defensive. "Little one, I don't wish to hurt you," the man said. "Who is your father?" he wondered.

Mordred was quiet. After a while he looked down. "I don't know," he replied.

"No? Who was the man who birthed you?" the man asked.

Mordred was quiet, jaw twitching sharply and eyes blazing a bit in anger before becoming sadness again and despair. "I…" he began, but his voice broke. He swallowed. "I don't know," he said, voice a bit watery. "I was told my mama and papa loved me very much and that I was their baby… But they were killed before I could know them…"

"That's terrible! By who?" the man asked.

Mordred scowled darkly, turning his head sharply away and closing his eyes, fists clenching. "By a wicked prince," he finally, bitterly answered. "He gave me my name."

"What is your name?" the man asked.

Silence. "Mordred," Mordred finally answered.

"Such a horrible name to give a little boy," the man said.

Mordred visibly flinched like he'd been struck. "Yes…" he finally whispered.

"Or perhaps a prophetic one," the man pressed. Mordred was quiet. "Who took you in after them?"

"The orphanage," Mordred said.

"Did you grow there?" the man asked.

"No… The wicked prince came again… He burned it down with all the babies inside. Well, his brothers did, but it was his fault," Mordred said. "I was with another family after. They raised me and loved me, then they were mommy and daddy and I loved them too… But they died also because of bandits or pirates, I think? I'm not sure."

"Also the prince's fault?" the man asked.

"I don't know," Mordred replied. "But it was the prince's land that did nothing about those men."

"So, he was guilty of the ruin of every home you ever knew," the man said, putting on a sympathetic air. "How horrible! Surely that prince must be terribly punished for killing your parents so long ago, and all your friends, and for the murders of your other parents." Mordred was silent, glaring towards the edge of a cliff not far off. "Where does this monster live?"

"Denmark," Mordred whispered. "Or nearby."

"So far away! How did you come to be so distant from there?" the man asked.

"My… Lot brought me here… He took me in after everything went bad," Mordred said.

"But he is not your daddy, is he?" the man said. Mordred was quiet. "How could he do such a thing? Take you away from the home you knew and keep you away from the graves of your parents and friends, and bring you away from the man who killed them all. That man who destroyed your life should himself be destroyed and you should get to see it I think, for all he stole from you!" Mordred looked sharply at the man again, eyes narrowed and glittering. "This man, this… Lot… He wasn't trying to _protect_ that murderer, was he?" Mordred shifted. "Oh dear. If he was then… oh what a betrayal of your trust!" Mordred shifted, his fists clenched so tightly now his hands were shaking. And the rest of his body was starting to subtly follow. "That the man who is supposed to take care of you, supposed to love you, supposed to pretend to be some kind of a father to you when he's not, would throw your broken heart under the hooves of horses and spit at the remains in an effort to protect a man who doesn't deserve protection."

"Stop it," Mordred hissed almost before the man was finished.

"I'm sorry, little one, if I'm upsetting you," the man said. He looked thoughtful a moment. "You know, there may be a way for you to return to Denmark one day… Jekyll surely goes to that place, does he not? To visit? I know he has friends in the area. Maybe you could talk him into bringing you. Oh but then you're so very little. I'm afraid it might not matter. But perhaps when you're older… There are schools, apprenticeships. When you have money of your own you could even purchase a ticket to sail there for yourself and confront the murderer of your parents and friends! If nothing else, maybe it will give you closure. Surely closure is what you desire, not anything… sordid." Mordred was quiet, glaring at the ground. "Hmm… Perhaps the wicked prince chose your name well after all… Perhaps the wicked prince was your father?"

Mordred scoffed. "Maybe he might as well have been," the boy spat out.

"Because of the way he controlled your life?" the man asked.

"Because of the way he hurt me," Mordred stated with a scowl. A raven landed in the branch of a nearby tree and cawed loudly and sharply. Mordred and the man quickly looked over at it, startled. Its eyes were fixed on them. The man chuckled, turning back to Mordred who once more turned attention to him. The man opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly the raven flew from the tree quickly and pecked the man's head sharply, drawing blood and making the man shout out in pain before trying to seize it to break its neck. He grabbed it indeed and made to quickly snap, but suddenly the raven disappeared and a serpent took its place, swiftly slipping out of the man's hands and dropping to the ground before coiling and becoming a man. A man who held a sword drawn and pointed at the stranger's throat. "Menw!" Mordred exclaimed with a gasp.

"Get away from him," Menw sharply ordered the stranger.

"Menw, we…" Mordred began. He gasped as a hand firmly clamped on his shoulder. Gasping, he looked back and tensed up, eyes widening. "Alisander!" he exclaimed.

Alexander shoved by Mordred and drew his own sword, pointing it at the stranger as well with eyes flaming in fury. "Get away from him," he parroted Menw.

"We were only speaking," the man said calmly, putting his hands slowly up.

"Corrupting," Alexander hissed.

"Manipulating," Menw hollowly and darkly said.

"Twisting," Alexander growled darkly.

"Stealing," Menw added, voice shaking.

The man was still, glaring at them, then glanced at the stunned boy. Said man smirked a twisted, dark smirk, then looked back at them. "You're right," he murmured in a dark and gloating grow. "And I sowed well… Never fast _enough_, are you gentlemen? Not then and not now."

"Get the hell away from him!" Alexander screamed, pushing the sword to the man's throat. The man chuckled and backed away before turning and leaving quickly.

Alexander and Menw glared after him. Menw finally turned to look back at Mordred, who was staring ashamedly at the ground. "Whatever he said to you is a lie. Know that in your heart of hearts… Whatever he told you was a lie." Mordred nodded an assent, but words were only words… The ideas were planted firm and already taking root, and he was afraid of them… Afraid of how much sense they made…


	7. Elsa's Stress

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Elsa's Stress

(A/N: **Second **one up today.)

Elsa sent for Jekyll immediately. She hadn't taken half-way measures with an ice pigeon. She'd created a team of horses made of ice and snow, and a sleigh of the same, and she'd mounted and ridden it as fast and far as she could. The world below had passed in a blur… She had never known she could move as quickly as this… She had reached Scotland in a matter of hours, if that, and she had found Jekyll alone in his hotel room. She'd almost given the poor man a heart attack when he looked out his window to see her in a shroud of snow. Upon recognizing her he immediately let her in and asked her what was wrong. She'd said three simple words and that had been it.

_The Black Death_

He'd mounted the carriage with her without further question. They'd torn across the sky, and only then had he pressed for details… So she'd told him… He'd never know how grateful she was that he sat there so calmly like nothing at all was wrong and like everything would be okay…

They landed in front of Anna's home. Jekyll had disembarked. He'd gone to the door. He'd faltered… Elsa's heart had dropped into the pit of her stomach. In that brief moment she had seen terror in the eyes of the doctor. Terror unlike any she'd seen in him before even when it came to Hyde. "Doctor?" she'd fearfully asked. "Wh-what do you need? The… the 'costume'?"

Jekyll was silent. "I doubt very much the… costume… did anything for those men in the end… And if it did, the protection it offered was as minimal as could be. They believed in a miasma theory," he said.

"Diseases can be transferred through the air. They weren't entirely wrong in that respect in that case, were they?" she uneasily asked.

Jekyll was silent. "The costumes did little to prevent airborne illnesses," he finally said. "The protection the costumes offered wasn't protection from that."

"But it maybe, however unlikely, offered _something_," Elsa said. "It covered them wholly, didn't it? No chance of contact with bodily fluids or blood, right?"

Silence again. "Get me the costume," he finally said. He started as in about a second he was decked out in a costume of ice. He looked himself over in vague surprise, then turned to Elsa who looked near tears.

"Help her," the queen pled, voice breaking.

Jekyll was still. "Go home, Elsa," he finally said. "When I have news, I will send it to you. But go home." It seemed initially that Elsa was going to do no such thing, but all at once she turned on her heel and walked swiftly away not once looking back. He watched after her until she was out of sight, then turned back to the house. After a moment he walked into it with his cane at his side. He had never been gladder for the fashion statement than he was right now. He removed the mask though, so he wouldn't frighten Anna if she was still in good condition. He went to her room and tapped gently on the door. "Princess Anna?" he said.

"Doctor? Is that you?" she asked. She sounded weak and tired…

"It is," Jekyll confirmed. "May I come in?"

"Do you dare?" she asked with a tight laugh.

"It is my duty," he answered.

"If you want to risk it, that's your choice," Anna replied.

Jekyll took a breath then entered the room. He paused immediately on seeing her. She was pale, sweating, and looked feverish. "How long since you left China?" he asked.

"Six or seven days I think?" Anna replied. Jekyll's jaw tightened a bit. It was a lengthy trip from China to Norway, which would generally be promising, except there was no guarantee she had been in China still when she'd become infected. If she had been bitten by a flea, or if someone infected had been on the same train or the same boat… An infected person began to show symptoms two to six days after exposure. She was still very likely within the time frame.

"Are you having trouble breathing?" he asked. Anna swallowed and nodded, clenching her teeth and closing her eyes tightly. She began to cough. Jekyll slipped on the mask. He had told Elsa it probably wouldn't make a difference, and it probably wouldn't, but he would take slim chances over no chances. With luck it wasn't pneumonic, and thus not transferable by air. However, one could still catch it via direct contact with someone infected. That didn't bode well for her husband and child. It was rare it spread easily from human to human, however, which was promising for her husband and baby he hoped; yet there was still a risk it was pneumonic after all. This costume wouldn't likely protect him from that. It would protect him from contracting the disease via direct contact, though, more likely than not. He didn't plan on making any direct contact one way or another, however. He hated himself for putting on the mask when Anna saw what he was wearing and a terrified and nervous look crossed her features. "Don't be frightened," he assured. "I would happily remove this mask at least. I doubt it does anything to protect me from anything airborne, but…"

"But if there's a chance it offers even an inkling of protection after all, it's safer you wear it," she quietly said.

He was quiet. "Yes," he finally admitted. "Now, I'm going to ask you some questions and conduct a brief investigation, and I'm going to stay by you and monitor you for a while until we're sure this is passed, alright? I won't stay in the house, necessarily, but I will come regularly."

"Don't let Kristoff or Gerda back," she said.

"Of course not, my dear, of course not," he replied.

Frozen

The dark pigeon arrived at the palace as she was getting ready for bed, tearful and extremely stressed over everything that was happening. She was startled to see it and unsure of where it came from. It had seen her in the process of undressing, stilled a moment, then moved away from the window to preen itself elsewhere not far off. Puzzled, she finished getting into her nightgown and let out her hair, brushing it. In a few minutes the bird returned and flew right inside to the night table, startling her. She blinked at it. A letter canister was tied to its leg. After a moment she reached out, taking the canister off the leg. She scanned it in silence, taking in the words, then read it again from the start in more detail to make sure she hadn't missed anything written in it.

"Menw… This is an interesting way to let yourself in, and vaguely unsettling. You could have landed outside, transformed into a man again, and entered legitimately instead of flying into my room at night when it should have been obvious that I was getting ready," she said in a chastising and unimpressed tone, giving the bird a look. The bird paused its preening to give her a look straight back that seemed borderline disdainful. After a moment it flew towards the window and landed before turning into a man again, sitting on said windowsill and looking vaguely put out.

"My lady, you are a damn sight more lovely than most any woman I have seen before, but do not flatter thineself to think thou art worth my emulating the disrespect and dishonor Lancelot showed t'ward Arthur. To many other men perhaps, but not to me. I have seen first hand the damage that did. That said, I am aware I have far overstepped my boundaries and could in fact be put to death without question for even thinking to be in a married woman's room late at night when her husband is gone away. For that offense I apologize most profusely, but it was an urgent matter for reasons we would rather not get into right now. Happening to run into Soredamer along the way would have slowed the process down immensely. Now if you would please determine what to do with the information you have read. If I must yet fly a great distance more, I would just as soon leave as quickly as possible."

"You come here late at night and expect me to allow you to go without properly resting? How many hours have you travelled, Menw?" she replied, secretly glad for the distraction he'd brought with him. "I'm too tired to answer tonight, and I doubt you'll go anywhere without further messages to bring so you're stuck here, I'm afraid. You might as well take the time to rest and get comfortable. Not in here."

"That goes without saying, my lady," he replied, bowing to her. He had grievously overstepped his boundaries as was, but then he'd never really fully adjusted to proper social etiquettes and constructs even in his own time let alone this one. For reasons.

"I'll forgive you this offense this time, but do not enter my room again without permission," Elsa stated, still a little bitter at the intrusion but again, still honestly glad for the distraction.

"My lady," he answered, bowing once more.

She approached the window and looked out. "That wing of the castle over there is where the guest rooms are. Choose whatever suits you, rest, then tomorrow I will see you in the library in private at nine o'clock sharp. Enter by way of bird or rodent then, if you are so determined to avoid reminiscing with Soredamer," she said, pointing the wing out to him.

"My lady," he replied, again bowing. He straightened up. "The physician disappeared earlier in the night. We know not where he is."

"He is here with us. I… needed him for something," she replied. He raised a curious eyebrow. "It's nothing I will trouble you and your companions with, Sir Menw. This is my problem to address." He didn't push. Instead he transformed and flew away to the castle wing she'd pointed out. She watched after him, mystified as to what reason he could have possibly had for showing up in her bedroom unannounced in the dead of night. He couldn't have been that oblivious to what was decent and respectful and what wasn't. Maybe she should probe Soredamer as to that man's nature, but not tonight.

Elsa returned to her bed and crawled under the covers before settling in to read the letter Menw had brought a third time. It was from Lot. It was descriptive and yet somehow vague. The cut and dry was it was a proposition of trade and an inquiry as to whether she herself had trade connections with the Middle East or the Asia's that might be open to a similar proposition. It was confusing because was Lot even in any sort of position or situation where he could _afford_ a trade? That he would even suggest such a thing seemed like a large and risky gamble, but at the same time it would be entirely unlikely of him to make a promise or proposition he couldn't hold to. This implied that there was some sort of plot in the works that he wasn't telling her about. That raised a slew of other questions that she would be wise to ask in audience with Menw tomorrow. She sighed, laying the letter down and massaging her temples. It was one thing after another here… First Hans, now Anna, now the Black Death, now this… She just wanted it to all end… On top of all her other worries making her sick to the stomach, tomorrow she also needed to put her finishing touches on the draft of her pledge to Norway and kind thanks to Sweden for showing interest in Arendelle, along with her apology that the arrangement offered by the Swedes would not be the arrangement she opted into. Gods have mercy on her mental state. She sniffed, feeling her eyes burn with tears, then lay down in bed and blew out the candle before falling into a restless sleep…

Frozen

The next morning found Elsa at a desk in the library carefully penning her letters to Norway and Sweden, hypervigilant for any possible confrontational language. She had sent to the King of Scotland, pleading for her husband's return, and she dreaded to receive the answer. Somewhere inside her she knew what it would be. A resounding no… It always was… She was more than a little grateful for Soredamer's company and support through all of this. Soredamer was offering advice every so often but was otherwise silent, reading books and sipping at tea. "What is Menw's nature?" Elsa asked.

"What a strange question," Soredamer replied, looking over at her in confusion.

"When I saw him last, he seemed very… uninformed of proper social convention," Elsa said, careful not to tell Soredamer she'd seen him only last night. "He once flew into my room in the dead of night while I was dressing, then flew away upon seeing what I was doing before coming back once more."

"Oh… That," Soredamer said like suddenly it all made sense to her. It probably did too, but Elsa was still in the dark. "Menw's story is… interesting, to say the least. You see no one really knows whether Menw was, well, born _human_. Theories were commonplace around whether or not he was natural born bird, beast, fish, or whatever else."

Elsa started, stopping dead in her writing and looking quickly over in shock. "Excuse me?" she said.

Soredamer nodded. "When Arthur first met Menw, he met him as a dog, for some context, and to make a long story short it was ultimately never stated by Menw what he actually was. His lack of understanding of human boundaries and oftentimes logic gave rise to rumors he had not been naturally born human. Others said he had been born human but as an infant had been taken in by animals and so was raised as beast rather than man. Stories differed on whether the animals were of a magical variety or whether the fae turned him into what the animals were so he would fit in with them," she said.

"So that means…?" Elsa pressed.

"That he would have thought literally nothing of flying into your room even if you'd been stark naked," Soredamer stated, shrugging. "It might have clicked after a moment how unbecoming and offensive it was, but it wouldn't have been on his mind at first. He would have left more because he remembered that doing such a thing was considered improper by human thinking, not because he himself necessarily understands _why_ that is. That is to say he would have understood it after the fact, he learned these things as he came into himself you see, but he wouldn't have agreed with the logic behind it necessarily. When a dog accompanies you to the chamber pot or to a bath and sits there watching you, does it see anything embarrassing or awkward about it? No! It just wants to be close to its master. If a bird catches you skinny dipping in a lake, what does it care? You're just another creature as far as its concerned, and a frightening one at that."

"That's unbelievable," Elsa said in disbelief, eyes wide. "I've never heard of such a thing!"

"In the end whether Menw was natural born animal, raised by beasts over men, or even simply identified more with the animals of the earth than the humans, it all led to the same thing," Soredamer said. "The court didn't care. He had proven himself more human than some humans, whether he too was human or not by birth. He was just one of them, in the end, and they treated him as such not caring for the truth of his origins when all was said and done. How is your letter to Norway and Sweden coming?"

"I think I've covered myself in every feasible way and then some," Elsa said, handing the letter over for Soredamer to read through. After this there was the matter of Lot, then when Jekyll returned, she needed answers about Anna's state… She grimaced, feeling a headache creeping up, and tried to focus on one thing at a time. Which was impossible given her baby sister was dying and her husband was… was awaiting execution…

"It seems respectful, not confrontational or accusing at all," Soredamer said.

"I'm hoping your right. Norway and Sweden are friendly with one another ultimately, so the odds are this will go off without a hitch. At least that's the plan," Elsa said. "With luck Sweden simply concedes and lets it go. I'm hoping to foster that feeling in them with my words."

"I think you've done fine," Soredamer said, handing it back.

"Thank you," Elsa said, taking it and scanning it again. "Anyway, I have a meeting here shortly. If you wouldn't mind?"

"Of course. Good luck, your majesty," Soredamer said, standing and leaving with a curtsy.

Frozen

Elsa watched after Soredamer as she left, shutting the library door behind her. After a moment she heard squeaking and looked quickly over. She spotted a rat creeping out of a hiding spot and frowned a bit, raising her hand to freeze it before stopping herself. Rats could never have gotten this far in so easily… She lowered her hand once more. "Menw?" she said. After a moment the rat transformed into a man. Elsa inwardly winced. "How long have you been here?" she asked.

"I entered as you were discussing your letter with Sora," he replied.

"Please, take a seat," Elsa said. "I have questions about this venture Lot's hinting at, as you can probably imagine."

"I wish I understood it well enough to answer them, my lady," he replied, sitting. "The gist of it is that as long as Lot is masquerading as a noble, he needs to be able to back his claims. He and Dinadan formed some sort of elaborate plot involving Dinadan's golden tongue and Lot's political prowess to start building a foundation of powerful political and economic connections, which a Duke of course needs in his everyday life. Tell a lie enough times, eventually it may become the truth. That is the basis of their planning, as far as I've been able to tell. Dinadan's merchant's eye has seen a way to back the claim with tangible evidence. Some sort of plan to form their own standalone economy. Lot has a base of operations in the Orkney Islands, he has the memory of the city that once existed on the island upon which his home castle sits, and he and Dinadan have a shared vision. With their two drives combined, I personally have little doubt they'll actually succeed at it too. It begins with building connections and finding a supplier for Dinadan to use to push merchandise; exotic goods and the like. It also involved real estate for some reason or other. I didn't go into the details and they were cryptic about it."

"Build his own economy?" Elsa asked in disbelief.

"Every great city was founded by someone or something," Menw answered.

"That's incredible… Either he's totally out of his mind, or he's stumbled on something greater than we can even imagine at this state," Elsa said.

"I opt for totally out of his mind, but then he's pulled off some extraordinarily amazing feats before. The foundation for any nation is trade. Exotic goods sell for high profit in Britain. Suppliers in the Middle East and Asia would turn them a fat profit almost immediately. Add to that the potential for trade partners in Arendelle, the Isles, and perhaps their own allies, and they already have a strong foundation in their corner upon which to build an economy," Menw said. "More than that I couldn't say. It would be more Lot and Dinadan's matter to discuss than mine. Think about it, my lady. I still have this same message to deliver to King Caleb. If you'd like I'll leave you alone with your thoughts a while so you can determine what to do; then I'll come back to collect whatever response you may decide on."

"I'll write to Sultan Ali of Agrabah," Elsa said. "I'm sure I can convince him to open trade with Lot if I can at least somewhat explain what's going on and the reasons for all of it in the first place. It won't take both me and Caleb to convince him once he knows what it's for… It's for my husband? Isn't it?"

"It's for them," Menw said. "But that sense of normalcy, that sense of nostalgia, may indeed pacify Mordred for a while. And it would certainly make Lot's existence less… unusual to the royal parties involved in Scotland's welfare."

"A Duke no one's heard of appearing out of nowhere and building up a town for himself wouldn't be unusual?" she asked dryly.

"Royals are busy people. With some juggling it would be possible to convince the King of Scotland, should he stick his nose into things, that Lot is simply a lesser-known Duke that maybe was granted a title by the man's predecessor or by the King himself. I doubt royalty remembers _every_ single royal title they've bestowed. And if Lot catches the man's eye, and we can convince the king nothing is out of the ordinary, it could benefit us all greatly. There are over seventy islands in the archipelago that is Orkney. Only a fraction of them are inhabited, as far as anyone knows. His palace is situated on an island that supposedly isn't, as is the ruined town that once existed on its soil. Likely other ruined towns on others that no one has yet discovered. His purchasing islands that seem to otherwise be worthless, and subsequently developing them, could well go totally unnoticed, aside from initial purchase of said islands," Menw said.

"This seems absolutely mad," Elsa said with a sigh, sitting down.

"Because it is," Menw replied. "But all towns started somewhere with someone first building up a settlement and thusly founding it. It doesn't have to even be a process that takes many years to get a foothold. What really would he need? Housing, some businesses, suppliers, purchasers, trade partners."

"Necessities would be food and water," Elsa said.

"Hunters, gatherers, farmers, cultivators," Menw said. "Dig some wells, tap into the fresh water supplies, and those matters are tended. The base of a city was already once there, so obviously they have all of that on hand."

"Add in a food market or two and you're well to do," Elsa said, nodding. "Or buy directly from those supplying. Hunters could sell meat, gatherers and farmers could sell their produce."

"If they can stock themselves, all the better, but they would not always need to with the added benefit of trade routes," Menw said. "Ships back and forth from the mainland, or from Arendelle and the Islands and this Agrabah you speak of. Fine cloths, exotic spices, food… The more tradesmen that can be convinced to take the plunge the better. Dinadan is persuasive. He'll manage it well enough. How long, really, to set all that up?"

"It would depend. With Arendelle? Not long at all," Elsa said. "The Isles I'm not so sure. They're experiencing a period of contention with Scotland."

"But they're willing to go under the table just as we are," Menw said. "Why should they go through Scotland at all if they can easily enough sneak under the radar?"

"I won't condone such dishonesty," Elsa seriously replied.

"You won't need to. Only they will," Menw answered.

"And I just turn a blind eye?" Elsa asked.

"You don't even know for sure if the Southern Isles will agree. You'll never have to know, really, whether or not they agreed to help us. It isn't Arendelle's business," Menw said. "Though your lands are allies, you hardly micromanage each others' trading partners, do you?"

Elsa shook her head at him. He was right, though. She wouldn't know one way or another what Caleb had chosen to do if no one spoke of it. And even if she brought the point up, it wouldn't matter. The Princes of the Southern Isles were the princes of deceit also. If they didn't want something known, it wouldn't be known.

"I'll write to Agrabah and put forward this pitch for trade," she said. "But Orkney is under Scottish jurisdiction; it isn't a monarchy anymore, Menw. Agrabah has an honest ruler who will want to go through Scotland, so it may land on the Scottish King's shoulders whether such a deal goes through."

"Then you write nothing at all to the Sultan of Agrabah. Leave the matter to the deceivers more inclined to underhanded and corrupt methods," Menw said.

"I had given the Knights of the Round Table more credit towards honor than this," Elsa said.

"The Knights of the Round Table are no more," Menw stated a bit sadly. "Nevertheless, rest assured that as soon as this can all be legitimized, it will be. Lot is not generally inclined to such dishonesty and is far from thrilled that this is what needs to be done. Yet it is."

"But it isn't. He hasn't explored every option," she said.

"Maybe not, but the man is just underhanded enough that he can be convinced to bend the rules if it means a faster route to reaching his goals," Menw replied. "Sometimes it is costly, but in this instance I'm not so sure that will be the case. We have nothing to lose, Elsa, and everything to gain," Menw said. "The distraction of helping his father build a miniature empire will also be key to distracting Mordred from other matters… He was speaking to a man just the other day. A man who, when I came upon them, seemed to be playing with his mind. Jekyll states in a good deal of concern that it was likely a certain 'Mr. Hyde' and that Mordred should not be let out of our sight for the rest of our stay on the mainland."

Elsa was silent at this. "Go," she finally said. "I will write to the Sultan, and if he doesn't ask the right questions, I won't give him the details."

"Should he write the correct questions?" Menw asked.

"I'll refer him to Caleb claiming Caleb knows more of it than I do," Elsa replied. "Now secure your trade connection with the Southern Isles. You have Arendelle's. Lot can write up the agreement and send it to me whenever he so chooses to. Now I have a letter to Norway and Sweden to finish up before I tackle court. And a million other things."

"You shouldn't be straining yourself," Menw cautioned.

"I know," she said with a sigh. "But Hans is…" She trailed off. "Hans isn't here right now to offer his helping hand, and I don't want to disturb Anna. I would give the task to Soredamer, except no one knows who she is and as far as is being assumed, she's a mere lady's maid who should have no say in the court of Arendelle."

"Have Kai receive the grievances in written form and submitted to the attention of you, then have them pass Soredamer's eyes rather than dealing with them in person for yourself. It will greatly cut down your stress and help ensure the safe delivery of your child," Menw said.

"Where is this all coming from?" Elsa asked.

"There were enough childbirths in the Round Table for me to understand how bad stress can be for a pregnancy. Especially when one is so close to a due date," Menw said.

"I've done that already and will continue to," she replied. "Travel safely, Menw."

"My Lady," he answered, bowing to her before taking on the form of a bird and flying out the window. It was about time he visited the Isles anyway. He still had an obligation to Lars to help him better control and manage his shape-shifting. Elsa watched after him and winced. Maybe she should have told him what was going on with Hans after all? But they had so much to do for themselves, and on top of that the whole situation with the boy Mordred… Maybe telling them about Hans would only put Hans in more danger at that rate. She sniffed and sank down in a chair. She felt tears stinging her eyes. She let them come freely this time. She couldn't hold them back anymore. She just wanted to cry…

Frozen

Jekyll stared at the black and swollen node in grim silence, moving Anna's arm with his cane from a distance. _Dammit_… He sighed through the nose, and if he wasn't wearing the damnable mask, he would have pinched the bridge of it and massaged it a bit. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Dammit," he whispered out loud.

"Doctor?" Anna's weak voice asked, strained and painful.

Jekyll forced a smile. "Shh… Rest, my dear," he assured. She began to cough again and he grimaced, putting a little more distance between them. "Rest," he repeated again. She soon was still, and he left the room immediately, shutting the door behind him and leaving the house rapidly. He pulled off the mask and breathed in the fresh outside air. He grimaced. What was he supposed to do…? Maybe there were medicines that perhaps could make a difference. He had to try something! For gods' sakes, on average there was twenty-four hours to forty-eight hours after the first symptom appeared before death occurred in the average patient! Untreated, she was doomed unless by virtue of a miracle!

_There was nothing he could do…_

He let out a shuddering breath, sinking down against the door. "Dr. Jekyll, is it true that there has been a case of plague?" a worried woman asked, lingering nearby. She wasn't the only one. Rumors spread quickly in this little town. He had been asked multiple times about it.

"There is nothing to fear," Jekyll replied. "Everything is under complete control. You needn't worry," he said with a sigh, standing up wearily. "Just… give this home a wide berth for a little while, if you please. There is no guarantee it is plague." A blatant lie, but it did the job to stop potential panic. People uneasily drifted away, but they'd taken him at his word.

"Doctor, what is the verdict?" a voice asked. Jekyll turned. Kai was there with Gerda. He had been the one to ask, looking very worried.

"Be with the queen, dear Kai and sweet Gerda. Just be with her," Jekyll answered. "Things will be… difficult for her right now." More than difficult. She'd told him what had happened to Hans and her despair and panic over that… She'd frantically been writing to the Scottish King's vassal pleading her husband's case, but the man turned a deaf ear to her and had on more than one occasion called her stupid and foolish for thinking he would be swayed to return her husband to her alive.

"Will Anna live or die?" Gerda asked.

"There is… a chance she will live," Jekyll said.

"But not a large one," Gerda realized solemnly.

Jekyll was quiet. "There is a _very_ miniscule chance she will live," he amended. Silence.

"Elsa should know," Kai finally said. "If it comes on her suddenly and she has no time to prepare or say goodbye… She needs to know…"

"I know," Jekyll said in a whisper. He let out a breath and put on his top hat. "Let us be on our way."

Frozen

"There is nothing that I can do for Anna anymore," Jekyll seriously and solemnly stated to a broken-looking Kristoff and an utterly stunned Elsa. "The best that… that I can do… is try and make her last days as comfortable as possible… There is a chance that she will recover, I refuse to claim she is doomed when she isn't! But that chance is… very small."

"How small?" Kristoff hollowly asked.

"The… mortality rate is I believe seventy, maybe… maybe eighty or ninety… percent in cases of the plague," Jekyll said. Utter silence met his statement. Suddenly Elsa rose, devastated, and left, going to try and comprehend the truth in those words on her own. Kristoff sobbed, breaking down and sinking into a chair. Jekyll stood at his side, resting a comforting and grounding hand on his friend's shoulder.

Elsa entered her room, shutting the door behind her. She rested her head against it, teeth clenched, closed her eyes and began to silently sob as grief started to consume her; as it became more and more apparent the futility of her situation… She was going to lose her husband and sister both… She was going to lose the two people she loved the most in this world, and there was absolutely nothing that she could do about it…

"Queen Elsa, there is someone here to see you," Kai said.

"I will see no one," she replied hollowly.

"The man will not leave," Kai stated grimly. Elsa bristled, going silent. With those words she knew immediately who it would be… She blinked a few times rapidly, wiped her eyes, then turned and opened the door, leaving it silently and going to meet the 'man' who had come to her…

Frozen

"What do you think now, my queen?" Carabis asked. She could say nothing, only sat on her throne in silence, head bowed. "My poor, frightened girl," the troll cooed in false sympathy. "You know… I can make it better." She tensed a bit, but didn't respond. "I can restore your sister's health. I can save your husband's life."

Elsa was quiet. "The fae do nothing without price," she finally said in a whisper.

"No. We don't. And you will indeed do something for me in repayment for my saving your beloved and your sister," the troll stated.

Silence. "What price would you ask?" she finally questioned. Not because she was inclined to pay him any price, but… but just because if there was some sort of reasonable chance…

Carabis smirked darkly. "You will give yourself to me," he growled wickedly.

Elsa's eyes began to glitter angrily. She looked slowly, darkly up, fixing him with her icy cold and openly disgusted glare and scowl. "Get out," she said, voice shaking in rage. "I will not be your new Ice Maiden."

"The Ice Maiden never thought _she_ would be either," he answered. "Funny, what love will drive people to do."

"Get out!" Elsa shouted, shooting from her chair and attacking full-force with her powers. He vanished into thin air before the attacks could land. "I'll find another way to save my husband and sister," she hissed in hatred and disgust. He had won the Ice Maiden as his little pet once upon a time, his pretty little slave. She would _not_ give in as the Maiden had. She would solve this herself just as they'd solved the Ice Maiden's problems as well as their own during that whole sordid incident…

A sudden pain went through her abdomen and she sucked in a sharp breath, arms quickly covering the baby bump. She gasped a bit, stiffening. That… wasn't supposed to happen. Pale, she swallowed nervously and looked down at her pregnant belly in concern. That wasn't supposed to happen… Tears threatened her eyes. She sucked in a sharp breath, looking quickly up again, then turned and walked swiftly away to rest. She needed to sleep. Sleep would give her time to destress a little bit. Stress wasn't good for the baby. Stress wasn't good for her baby…


	8. Faerie Bargain

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Faerie Bargain

(A/N: Borders on Mature Subject Matter, so be warned.)

Menw listened in shock and horror to Caleb's story as to what had happened to Hans. He certainly hadn't come here expecting _this_… "By the gods…" he said in disbelief at the close of Caleb's explanation. He finished reading the letter written in blood that declared Hans's immanent execution in the wake of '_our disappointment in the Southern Isles_' and put it down numbly, mind racing. Why hadn't Elsa _told_ him?

"We are helpless to save him now," Caleb whispered. "It was all that I could do. It was his only chance… And now he is lost…"

Silence. "They took him prisoner to Scotland…" Menw mused. Caleb looked wearily and questioningly up. "He is in Mordred's sights there… And ours… The difference is that Mordred doesn't need to know how close his would-be-enemy is. But _we_ know… And we aren't his enemies."

Caleb looked slowly up at Menw. "What are you saying?" he asked.

Silence a moment as Menw considered the question. "I will give thee no guarantees, Caleb, of his survival should me and my brothers in arms ride to his aid… But I can promise thee that his murderer will not leave off unscathed. Say the word, King of the Southern Isles, and the Knights of Arthur's Court will ride for thy brother's honor and freedom; and should we fail to arrive in time, for his retribution," Menw stated.

Caleb was silent, staring at him in disbelief. The Knights of the Round Table, _the_ Knights of the legendary _Round Table_, were offering him help. _Their_ help. If Hans were to have even the slightest ghost of a chance, it would come through these men. Menw met his eyes firmly and with certainty. "Go," Caleb finally found his voice to say. "Whatever you can do for my brother, ride forth and do it. Please. Even if all you can do is recover his body for burial." Menw bowed, transformed into a small dragon, and shot out the window with a roar, tearing across the sky heading for Scotland at a breakneck pace. They could waste no time. They didn't have long to act.

Frozen

She couldn't help her sister. _No_ one could help her sister. Not Jekyll, not anyone…

_"__I can change it all. I will save them both. All it will cost is yourself…"_

The voice plaguing her torturous dreams every time she shut her eyes to sleep…

_You're going to lose the baby… I sense it just as I sensed the fates of Hans and Anna. You're going to lose the baby…_

Kristoff was grief-stricken and wouldn't be talked to. She knew that if Anna died, Kristoff would be lost too. Not to death, he had Gerda to live for still, but mentally? He would be lost… There would be nothing of the brother-in-law she had come to know and love left…

_Sven will leave, Olaf will not be able to stand the cloud of grief following in the wake of your sister and husband's deaths. He will go with the reindeer and you'll never see them again… Olaf will melt, Sven is too tame to survive alone in the wild._

Letters, letters, damnable letters. They came in constantly, informing her every step of the way of her husband's impending execution. Then the one that broke her soul to its core.

_Tomorrow he will die at the stroke of dawn. We will send to you at that time his personal effects and all that was his, but we regret to inform you that you will not be receiving his body for burial._

Tomorrow he would die, and her baby would grow up without a father and with an emotionally distant mother. That would be no life for a child. This was considering she could even still carry the pregnancy to term with all the stress crushing her now!

_The pains kept coming… It had stopped moving…_

Tears burned her eyes and she swallowed thickly as fear welled up inside of her. She found herself rationalizing…

_Don't let yourself rationalize! The Ice Maiden rationalized! The Ice Maiden rationalized and look at what he did to her…_

It would only be one time… One time and both her sister and husband would live… Even if it was maybe more than once, it would only be rarely and not forever! Right? Was her honor worth the lives of her husband and her sister and the lives of all those who would be affected? It would… it would only be one time…

_"__Elsa, it will not be just one time…"_

The Ice Maiden's voice.

"But he will live… And so will she…" Elsa replied in a whisper.

_"__Lay siege to Scotland."_

She saw the maiden now, lingering in the shadows of her room. "For what purpose? He'll be killed before I can reach him or stop them, and Anna will die either way… And I gain nothing…" she said.

_"__You keep your dignity."_

"Was your dignity more precious to you than Vertigo?" Elsa bit more sharply than she'd intended. Silence. The Ice Maiden said no more. "I didn't think so," Elsa hissed, shutting her eyes tightly. If she did nothing, Hans died and her sister died and her baby… her baby if it did not die would live a miserable, shambles of a life with a mother so far away it would be like she wasn't even there…

_"__You can still be strong for your baby…"_

"If I can even carry it to term…" she replied.

_"__Elsa…"_

"I understand you now, Queen of the Glaciers. Finally I understand why you did what you did… For so long I thought you were so weak-willed, thought you had given up too easily, thought you were a ridiculous, feeble woman… I understand why you did what you did now… It wasn't weakness… I'm sorry I ever thought it was…" Elsa said. There was no further answer from the Queen of Glaciers, and silently she faded away.

With heavy heart, Elsa rose and began to dress herself to go to the evil sprite, clothing herself in black garment of mourning. That evening she slipped out of the castle unseen and left. She knew that if she didn't go now, then tomorrow Anna would be dead. Soon after her, Hans would be too…

Frozen

Elsa rode her ice mare silently through the woods, lost in her thoughts and her grief and her humiliation. She had tried to tell herself his brothers would manage to save him. They couldn't. She had tried to tell herself _she_ could save him. She couldn't. She had tried to tell herself that he could save himself… He couldn't… No one could… But the wicked troll might still be able to… If she went to him, he would stop all of this from happening. The fae never broke their promises. She resolved herself and rode onward, though still her mind sought possible ways out.

There is no way out…

_"__Maiden, where are you going?"_ a voice suddenly called out from the treeline.

She reined in her horse, looking quickly over. There in the shadows of the trees stood a man she couldn't quite make out. She frowned curiously but didn't ask questions. "Where I'm going is of no concern of yours," she replied.

_"__Maiden, tell me. Where are you going?"_ he repeated again, a light breeze picking up, leaves dancing across the ground and around the legs of her mare.

_And around him…_

Tears threatened her eyes. There was something about this man, this figure, that made her give in. Before she could stop herself, she was confessing everything to him and all that she planned to do, and she couldn't stop herself from pouring it out in grief and sorrow and self-hatred and disgust. He listened in utter silence until finally she stopped, trailing off into tears and quiet sobs and sharp, grieved breaths, the weight of everything that was happening collapsing down around her all at once and crushing her. For a long moment the man was still and silent, but finally he began to come out of the trees…

_And before her eyes, she watched his image change…_

Her eyes widened slowly, lips parting as she softly breathed in. Stepping from out of the trees was none other than the elven king!

_"__Queen of Arendelle, you have been deceived,"_ he said to her simply and firmly.

"Wh-what do you mean?" she demanded. "The fae cannot tell a lie or break a vow!"

"Queen of Arendelle, he will keep his promise to save your sister and your husband; but it is not one favor he will ask of you. It will be many… He will trap you in that place, his dark and twisted lair, and above you he will dangle the life of your unborn child and threaten you with its very existence, cursing the infant inside of your womb and marking it for death if you will not comply with whatever it is that he demands of you. He will make you stay with him for the duration of your pregnancy, and when the final weeks come you will be sent back to your kingdom to have your baby in peace; but after that, he will ensure that you continue to return to him. Just as he did with the Ice Maiden before you, using her not only as a tool of destruction but also for the outlet of his own depravity… And as the mother of his offspring, had you not freed her from him when you had…" Elsa caught her breath, paling. "In continuing to fulfil the duties he assigns, yes you will guarantee the life of your child; but in the end you will lose everything regardless. Dare you hear how that should come to pass?"

Elsa was silent, staring at him. "I dare," she finally replied.

"Your sister will die in time regardless of his saving her now, and she will likely die in her search for you. All that you fear will become of your brother-in-law, his pet, and your snowman, will be so. It will be your husband, though, to witness it all. Not you. You will be the wicked sprite's prize and prisoner. You will bear him his army, the details I will not give; but rest assured the dishonor that creature puts upon you will continue the rest of your days, and you will die his prisoner. Your body he will dispose of like so much trash, and one day your husband and your son or daughter by him will find out the truth of what befell you… Your husband will bay for blood, and he will be victorious in avenging you. He will bring the wicked troll to its death in glee… But in the process, he will doom Arendelle…

He will take the children born of you and the sprite away, determined to try and atone for the wrongs they will have suffered. In doing so, he will invite disaster. Your child by Hans will be murdered by its siblings, or some of them, and your husband in his grief will rage. His powers will pour out in full. What he will do then I do not have the heart to speak. He will utterly and completely lose himself to the monster he tried to bury away, and no one that tries to stop him will survive. Arendelle and the Southern Isles, perhaps even beyond, will become the very picture of Tartarus on earth. No one will be able to destroy the wicked prince, blind to the agony he will have brought. When finally he does see everything he has become and all he has done, he will not care. Eventually he will die, whether by old age or another sort of intervention I do not know, but there will never be a recovery from the bloody swath he burns…"

Frozen

Elsa broke down. "I don't know what to do! I don't know what to do!" she exclaimed. "If I don't go at all, I lose everything I ever loved! If I go, I doom my world. At least if I go home more lives will be saved!"

"You deceive yourself again," the elf king answered, though he offered no more detail. He didn't need to. She could guess. Her. Her and _her_ powers… "Such weakness that lays in the hearts of mortals; so deeply enslaved to their hearts and their emotions."

"Have you never loved, Elfin King?" she asked hollowly. His haughtiness immediately dissipated. He gave no comment. "I don't… I don't know what to do…" she said brokenly.

"The answer is simple. Request it of _me_… _I_ will save your sister and your husband," he stated.

"The fae do nothing without cost. What would _your_ price be, I wonder? How can I trust it when you give it? If the troll can mask such great costs in his own bargain, the great elven king can certainly do doubly so," she said heatedly. She could sense he was pleased with her remark, but he remained silent refusing to address her concerns. He held out a scroll to her instead…

"Deliver this to the Fairy Queen. Do what she tells you to from that point on," he said to her.

"That is your price?" she asked warily.

"You are in no position to bargain price," he answered. "You need only know the cost of my help will not be half as wicked as the cost of his. Trust in that, if you will trust in nothing else that I speak."

Elsa was quiet, staring at it. She had no choice, she realized. How much worse could her fate be if she dealt with the elf king instead, after all? Her two other options lead only to doom and despair. He offered her hope. There _was_ no hope for her now… She reached out, taking the scroll, and when she looked up again, he was gone…

Frozen

She didn't know where to even start to look for the fairy queen. She didn't have to know. Her mare seemed to move on autopilot, following a path she had no control over. She sensed the elf king's influence all around. Paths that were where they shouldn't be, turns and twists that could not have easily been guessed; a trail so specific and precise it couldn't have been random wandering that took her mare down them. She sought out the fairy queen, and upon the stroke of midnight she found her… The fairy glade was bright and sparkling, all around the fairies flittering and dancing in moonbeams. She stepped into their midst and they scattered with fearful squeals or gasps. It became dark, no fairy light illuminating the night anymore. Only the moon. She heard whispers in the trees…

"Fairy Queen, I beg an audience with you! Please. Speak with me," Elsa pled. No reply. "I am the queen of Arendelle, the…"

"I know who you are," a soft voice said. Elsa gasped, turning quickly. There, stepping from the trees, was a tall, stately woman with large wings on her back, human-sized as opposed to the size she doubtless usually took. "I am the Fairy Queen Clarion, of Pixie Hollow. And I know you have been seeking me, so I come to you now; for I sense deep fear and grief consumes you, my dearest, and I remember your decency to us our last meeting. Why do you seek an audience with me, I wonder? Do you not understand what deals with the fae may bring with them?"

"I have no choice," she answered, handing over the scroll to her. Clarion stared at it a moment before reaching out and taking it. She opened it up and began to read, sitting herself down on a throne of leaves she directed a large shrub to form for her. For five minutes she read in utter silence.

"Have you read this scroll?" she questioned.

"No," Elsa answered.

"Good… You are not to read it at all," she replied. After a moment more, she began to add something to the paper. An addendum? What was going on, Elsa wondered? The queen finally ended her addendum and rolled the scroll back up, handing it to her once more. "Bring this scroll to the Empress of the Sprites, Pharah. Do not look, do not let your curiosity cost you… My heart grieves for your predicament, young Queen, and I wish apologies could be enough. But they will never be. Not for what trials have been so suddenly thrust upon you… Ride in safety, Queen Elsa of Arendelle, and do not lose heart. His price will be steep, the Elven King's, but it will not be of the same vein as the price the wicked Carabis has asked of you."

"You do not tell me that it won't be just as wicked and heartless in another way," Elsa said.

She smirked sadly. "I do not tell you that," she confirmed. "Perspective, more than actuality, brave queen. Perspective… There is nothing done in bargain with us that comes without a price… Ride swiftly. Before it is too late for your husband. He will die, before your sister does. She will fight on for a few hours more than he has left to breathe." Elsa turned, racing back to her horse and mounting it, galloping away at a breakneck pace and once again letting the mare guide itself. It sensed where to go where she did not…

Clarion watched silently after her. "Tinkerbell," she called out softly. After a moment, a fairy appeared in front of her, silent. "Take your company of friends, and go to the location I send you. You have a task to complete now. One of such great importance that you cannot even imagine it… Be ready for a great deal of travel at a very rapid pace." Tinkerbell tinkled quiet bells, saluting determinedly.

Frozen

Though she was confused as to what they were having her do with this scroll, Elsa brought it swiftly to the Sprite Empress. Pharah read it through in grief, heart heavy inside her, and Elsa felt only pity for her that this was what she had to face regarding her son… "Wicked creature," the empress woefully said. She looked at Elsa. "You will not be his plaything. This I promise you."

"I know," Elsa quietly replied, looking down. "But who will? And whose will _I_ be?"

"The Elven King's price is nothing of that sort," the sprite gently reassured. "There will not be another who suffers the doom that you would have, that at least I can tell you… But nonetheless be cautious, my dear, in your dealings with the woodland king… For in the end, one evil is exchanged for another…"

"No evil he could possibly bring upon me will match what my alternatives are. Both you and the Fairy Queen have vowed as much," Elsa said.

"We have vowed nothing of the sort. In the end, Queen Elsa, it will come down to which grief you would have rather endured… We will soon see how you feel in time," the sprite replied, finishing her addendum and rolling up the scroll, handing it back.

Afraid but determined, Elsa took back the scroll, mounted her mare once more, and galloped back through the forest as quickly as she could, seeking out the elfin king once more… In not much longer the sun would rise, and then it would be too late for her husband… She urged her mare faster.

Frozen

She came upon the erl-king alone in the forest. She didn't come upon him, actually. More like she rode until he chose to appear out the corner of her eyes. She looked over quickly. He approached her as she dismounted her steed. She held the scroll back towards him wordlessly and he took it from her. "You have determined you will go through with this, then?" he asked.

"Now tell me your price," she replied. "And you will hold nothing back." He frowned slightly, displeased at her audacity in attempting to give the likes of him an order, but his displeasure softened soon enough, and to both her surprise and horror, he obliged her request…

"I will ensure the survival of your sister and your husband. But know that their fates were meant to be sealed… With their lives secured now, Death must be repaid for his losses… Two people, who they are you cannot know, will die in place of your husband and your sister at an unknown time in the very, very near future. Perhaps they will be people you know and love, perhaps they will be strangers. No one will be exempt. Not Kristoff, not your brothers-in-law, not the Duke of Weselton, not the royal family of Corona, no one. But what will that matter, I wonder? You husband and sister will live," he said, extending his hand to her with a smile that bordered on taunting.

Elsa caught her breath, backing quickly away from him in fear, flustered and shaken. "No," she breathed, shaking her head in denial.

"Lives for lives," he answered calmly.

Elsa let out a sharp and shocked little breath, looking down quickly at the ground, breathing speeding up a bit. Lives for lives… Could she truly go through with this, knowing what the cost would be now? Two lives saved, but two more lost… The only difference to this situation would be that if she refused and went home now, she would still have Hans and Anna… But was it worth sacrificing two more who perhaps were almost as dear to her as they were? Or to him? What if one was a brother? A friend? A-a father-figure… She looked back at the elf king, waiting patiently with hand outstretched to her to seal their deal, she assumed. She stared at it a long moment and started to reach towards it before stopping and pulling quickly back, stepping away again. No… No, she couldn't do it! Hans would sooner die than lose one of his brothers or friends. And the baby? What if the life taken was the life of her baby?! Of _Anna's_?! _Both_ of them?! Never could she hope to forgive herself for such a tragedy, nor would she be forgiven when it came out what she had done!

"No," she heard herself say out loud.

_His cordiality vanished like a mask…_

His smile disappeared, a dark and displeased look coming to his expression. He retracted his hand from her. "It is already too late," he said firmly and darkly. "It was settled the moment you took the scroll from my hand. Written in it was a directive to the Fairy Queen and the Empress of Sprites to name the two who would die in your husband and your sister's place, and the conditions under which it would come to be. And clauses regarding what your husband and sister will yet be required to do for themselves in order to escape alive; for the fae cannot do everything. One name for each of them to choose as the replacements, one clause for each of them to write for those who would be spared. The dooms of two others have been sealed in place of your love and your sister."

"You tricked me!" she shouted at him in fury, her powers starting to spike. The elf king was unfazed.

"It has been done," he stated, brushing her off as if she was no threat to him at all. "Now return to your home. Relish in the deal you have made, your majesty. You have secured the lives of your sister and the father of your child. Please yourself with that knowledge and do not try your luck further with me."

"Bastard!" she screamed.

"Bastard I may be, but it was you who chose to make deals with forces you could not predict. Wallow in the bargain you have made. Now go home and await the return of your husband to your side. And your sister," the elf king answered, turning and walking back towards his company, now peering out from the forest, who thereafter seemed to vanish into the air like they had never been… And she was left alone and guilt-stricken and horrified of what she had done, standing in the midst of a clearing where a fairy ring was now burned into the ground… She covered her mouth in guilt, closing her eyes and sinking to her knees.

_What had she done…?_

There was no going back now, she knew, as much as she wished to, and she had to accept that… But in return she would see her husband again… At least that was something… Something more precious than words could describe…

Frozen

The streets of Arendelle were dark and utterly abandoned. Signs swung from their posts, blown lightly by the breeze. Anna blinked blankly and looked around in confusion. How had she ended up out here, she wondered? She was sick in bed dying! Wasn't she? She almost didn't dare to breathe… Part of her wanted to knock at a random door just to see if anyone was around, but when she went to do so this overwhelming feeling of dread washed over her and she stopped. Every bone in her body screamed at her that if she opened that door, only horror would greet her eyes. This was so strange… She looked around nervously. She was on her road. The road where Kristoff's house was. She should get home. She needed to see her husband and tend to little Gerda. She began to walk, but this-this overwhelming feeling of dread began to consume her… She paused nervously and looked around. She felt like something was coming…

There was only the sound of the wind. She shifted and began walking once more, not feeling like she was getting anywhere, but knowing she was. She picked up the pace. She could swear she heard sweeping not far off… Where was her house? Suddenly she froze. She saw it now. And a figure stood outside of it that sent a chill through her. A Plague Doctor, hovering outside the door. Coming towards her, and towards the doctor, was a woman in a black hood and a red skirt… In her hand she held a rake. The rake was scraping along behind her, her head bowed. Anna felt a chill run through her. She remembered scary stories like this from when she was a little girl. A story about a hag that had wandered the streets of Norway in the time of the Black Death, or so stories went. A woman clad in red and black… Pesta had been her name. The Plague Hag.

Anna shuddered. If she brought her broom, everyone would die. If she brought her rake, some would live, passing through the rake's teeth. This sharp, desperation to run penetrated her thoughts. Anna found she couldn't move. She was rooted to the spot for terror! She approached the doctor who stood so still outside of her and Kristoff's door… She stopped… She began to cackle, after some moments of a silent staring match. The doctor wasn't phased. "You think you can hold the woman from death?!" she crooned in a scratchy voice. "Pesta will have her. Pesta will have all of you!" She couldn't see who the doctor was, but somehow she sensed it was Jekyll.

"You hold the rake," the doctor answered calmly. Pesta hissed at him. The doctor turned to face Anna. "There she is. Catch her if you can." Anna gasped, paling. Pesta's head whipped in her direction, and all at once the woman was moving at an inhuman speed, tearing towards her! She screeched in terror and turned, booking it as far away from Pesta as she could. The castle. She had to get to the castle! She would be safe there!

"Elsa! Elsa, help me!" she screamed. "Kristoff, Olaf, Sven, Jekyll, someone help! Help! I don't want to die! I don't want to die! Elsa!" She didn't know how she was keeping ahead of the Plague Hag. The woman was right on her heels. She could feel the fingers reaching out and brushing her hair. She felt the toes of Pesta's shoes on the heels of hers! If she tripped, if she slowed, for even a second, the woman would be on top of her and there would be no escape. The Plague Doctor appeared ahead of her. "Jekyll, help!" she begged.

He watched her run by. The scent of herbs and flowers filled her nose suddenly. She heard water thrown on the hag that made the hag scream in pain, faltering slightly. The herbs and flowers that had done nothing, really, for the plague doctors of long ago. The rosewater that had been ineffective. But here in her dream, they were potent. She put distance between them. The castle gates were just up ahead. She was almost there. Her lungs screamed in protest, her legs felt like jelly, but she couldn't stop until she was inside. She couldn't! She put on a burst of speed, a last desperate burst, and raced through the gates as the hag caught up to her again. She threw herself threw the castle doors and fell to the ground with a scream. She rolled quickly over, eyes wide in horror and terror. The plague hag stood there at the entrance, unable to come in, and cursed her in fury before melting away as rosewater and flowers and herbs seemed to shower down all around her. Anna could only gape in horror until there was blackness…

Frozen

When Elsa returned to Arendelle, she rode immediately for Anna's home. She dismounted and went quickly to the door, pushing it open without knocking. She hurried quickly to Anna's room and pushed open the door, running in. Anna was sitting up in bed looking as healthy as she had ever seen her! She was smiling at her husband, who was weeping in relief, and at the shocked Jekyll who was back against the wall like he'd just witnessed an unprecedented miracle not long ago.

"Anna!" Elsa exclaimed, running to her sister and falling next to her, hugging her tight. She was in good health again! "How do you feel?" she fearfully asked her sister, pushing her back a bit and looking her over nervously.

"Terrified?" Anna asked with a strained and breathy laugh. "There was this… this strange dream I was having before I woke up. It was horrifying… It felt like-like if I'd died in the dream, I wouldn't have woken up in real life…" Elsa was silent. So that had been one of the clauses written by either Clarion or Farah… But her sister had survived, and she was here now and well and that was all Elsa wanted to focus on in this moment… She could only hope to the gods that Hans was able to succeed in the clause given _him_ as well…

"What did you dream?" Elsa asked.

"It was awful, Elsa," Anna replied fearfully, looking nervously around like expecting to see something lingering there. "I dreamt of the Plague Hag…" Elsa shivered and listened in cold dread to the dream Anna recited to her and Kristoff and Jekyll.


	9. Do Not Look Back Again

.

Do Not Look Back Again

Hans stared out the small window of his cell grimly, regret and guilt and sorrow pulling at his heart. He had been sentenced to die at dawn… The sun had begun to show in the sky, the beams of light pouring through the cell… And that was it… His time was up… He was going to die here; executed as a political enemy on foreign soil and buried in a nation that wasn't his own… His wife would receive his things and his heart, his brothers would receive his head, and the rest of him would be put to rest in an unmarked grave or burned to ash. Kind of ironic, the burning to ash part.

_He couldn't go home this time… He couldn't see her again or see his child ever…_

He heard the footsteps approaching and his heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He tried to convince himself he was ready to die, but he wasn't. He wasn't at all ready to die. They opened his cell and came to him. He didn't put up a struggle as they cuffed his hands in front of him and shackled his ankles together, or as they led him out of the dungeon and into the light, or as they walked him down 'the long walk' towards the chopping block set up before a large, speculating crowd gathered to observe the morbid form of entertainment in some kind of sick curiosity. His eyes found the sea and lingered there in longing.

_He wanted to go home… But he couldn't… Maybe, in the end, that would be for the best after all…_

They were there now. The charges were read out to him, and the verdict. He tuned it all out. It didn't matter to him now. He was pushed gently to his knees, made to kneel there a spectacle to all the eyes watching him. At least they'd given him a last meal and let him wash and groom himself before death, he dryly and bitterly thought. It was something of a courtesy offered him.

_He would never hold his newborn in his arms, or kiss his wife again, or argue and gripe with his brothers, or speak to his friends, or write another story, or right the wrongs he'd done…_

Maybe death would correct them all _for_ him… He let out a breath as he was bent over the chopping block, head positioned 'comfortably' in the little nook it was to rest in. The stone smelled of blood and death, it seemed… The basket rested ready to catch the head when it was severed, and he felt like screaming but held his tongue. Screaming would do no good. Nothing would do any good anymore. All he could do at this point was die with as much dignity as he could.

_A group of little lights soared rapidly through the air, dodging around trees and buildings and people and obstacles, tearing towards the place they sensed they needed to be right now. Tiny human figures with little wings beating faster than they ever had before…_

He felt cold metal on the back of his neck as the headsman lined up his swing. He let out a shuddering breath as the metal left his neck, the axe raised high into the air. Breathe. Just breathe. Savor every last second that he had left, and pray _she_ would be alright…

_Elsa…_

The neck whistled through the air on its decent, he braced for death, but all at once the axe froze in place, the blade digging into his skin, and would go no further! "What?!" the headsman exclaimed in shock.

_Haunting giggles and whispers._

The headsman cried out in shock as suddenly he staggered back away from Hans. A collective gasp of awe and fear rippled through the people, who moved backwards and away. Hans looked quickly up with a gasp. There, flitting all around him at a breakneck pace, were a group of little beings. Human figures with tiny wings.

_Fairies!_

Frozen

Hans' eyes widened in shock. _"Silly headsman, careless executioner,"_ one said to the headman.

_"__This atrocity would have been unforgivable,"_ another echoed in a chastising tone.

_"__Foolish man, ignorant man…"_ another stated.

_"__Had you carried it through, you would have made such a very bad mistake indeed,"_ a fourth said.

"What's the meanin' of this?!" the furious vassal of the Scottish King demanded, shooting to his feet in shock, stunned at what he was seeing.

_"__A message is coming to you as you speak, a warning to you to end this farce once and for all," _a fairy said to the vassal. She was blonde and wearing a green… dress, Hans supposed it was? _"Either it will be a message from your king absolving the boy and setting him free, or it will be a threat from entities you do not yet know but will not be able to stand against."_

"Entities? What entities?" the man questioned, bristling slightly at the ominous choice of phrase. More haunting giggles answered his question as the fairies flew around him on gossamer wings.

"_Ancient king of mortal realm, who long ago wore Orkney's crown,_" the fairies all sang together, flying into the position of something of a circle of protection around Hans, who was now on his knees looking around in uncertainty and unease at the fae protecting him. The fae did nothing, or very little, like this without price…

"What?" the vassal said in disbelief, eyes widening at the sight before him. He stepped away nervously, as most everyone else had by this time already.

"_Emboldened men and powerful kings, of Arthur's court and his Knights we sing,_" they chanted.

"Liars!" the vassal declared, obviously not believing this declaration and quickly gaining his courage back.

"_Liars or not, we take him now! A promise was made we will not befoul,_" they sang together before seemingly vanishing.

"Kill the prince!" the vassal agitatedly ordered. The headsman stepped forward quickly, determined to act before the fairies returned. Before he could go more than a single step, though, the sound of a solitary heralding trumpet and solitary heralding drums echoed out. Everyone turned in the direction of the sound uneasily.

_The fairies had mentioned a message. Or advocates for the condemned that they could not stand to…_

Hans turned nervously. The vassal tuned with him. Both of their lips slowly parted in disbelief as bright banners appeared over the crest of a hill, coming from the direction of the forest…

There weren't many banners, only two, but the unease the people felt at the sight of them stifled the air. The men holding the banners marched over the crest of the hill and stopped in full sight, clad in armor Hans had never seen before. Not that it was unfamiliar in look, in fact it was quite period appropriate say for a decorative splash of medieval, it just wasn't the uniform of any of the kingdoms _he_ knew of. But it was the color of the flags they wielded. Two men appeared at the crest between the two bearing flags. They two were in armor. One held a trumpet and one held the drum, the instruments they'd heard. Horses' whinnies followed suite, and one final man rode up onto the crest in splendid array, a circlet on his head. This one he could make out. This one he knew. His heart skipped a beat from the rush of adrenaline and excitement that tore through him like wildfire. It was King Lot of Orkney!

Frozen

Hans could only gawk. If that was Lot, it meant the others were the knights. It meant that the Knights of the Round Table—the Knights of the flipping Round Table!—were come to rescue him. Or at least a portion of them. He didn't know whether to be humiliated or euphoric. "Oh my god…" he said out loud, pale. The Vassal, Duke Killian, could only stare in disbelief, flabbergasted. Whispers went through the crowds before silence finally fell.

There was a long, awkward quiet. Finally, Duke Killian found his voice to speak. "Who do ye claim t' be?!" he shouted out at the strange procession.

The man on horseback looked between the four men at his side, then focused on Killian once more. "I am the… Duke of Orkney. And I've come for the boy!" he answered. Hans could almost _hear_ the man choke on the word 'Duke', and he might have even chuckled had the situation not been so dire, but he really was in no position to even subtly taunt the position Lot had been reduced to here in an age that wasn't his own.

"And why should we give the boy t' ye?" the Duke demanded.

"Because if you don't, you will fast regret it," Lot answered. "We come in the name of the Clan of the heroine Merida of old, whom that young man is descended from."

Gasps of shock rippled through the crowds. The name 'Merida', it seemed, held some major sway here. Hans couldn't help but wonder if this was the area around where his ancestress would have lived… But how did the knights know that name…? Had they crossed paths with her or was she after their time? Had the fairies told them of her or had they learned of her themselves? A thousand questions raced through his mind, but unless they managed to pull this off, he probably wasn't going to get the chance to ask any of them.

Duke Killian looked sharply at Hans. "You are of Merida's bloodline?" he asked.

"On my mother's side," Hans muttered. For once the Duke seemed hesitant, but he didn't hesitate for long. He wasn't, after all, acting of his own volition. Not entirely. He was the Scottish King's vassal, so he needed to act in the perceived manner the King himself would have were he here.

"It doesn't matter who you descend from or don't. What matters is you've been condemned to die; and so ye shall," the man said. He drew his own sword, preparing to take Hans' head off himself. Mistake.

He howled in pain as the next second an arrow found its mark in his wrist. He dropped the blade like a disease and clutched his arm shouting in pain, then immediately afterwards began bellowing angry orders out of revenge. Immediately his soldiers raced to face the procession of knights, who casually tossed aside flags and instruments like it was any other day and drew weapons neatly in tandem. Oh. Gods. He was going to get to see Arthur's Elite in action! …_Wow_ was that ever fanboyish. Ugh, that was something he usually tended to avoid doing at all costs. Charles was the exception, but really could you blame him? The man was a literary genius. That same logic, though, justified him fanboying over the knights right now he supposed. Plus the fact he was pretty well their knave in distress at the moment, and his fate was almost entirely in their hands. Wait. How had they known where he was…? His brothers? The fairies? Elsa?

The soldiers kept closing the distance. Arthur's knights didn't wait long before they too started to advance. It was apparent their goal was getting to him as soon as possible so he didn't end up murdered while they were making their way to his side. The soldiers raced at them with guns and crossbows, opening fire. That was something the knights couldn't possibly be prepared for, but the fairies hadn't left them completely. The bullets misfired or shot off to the side. At times it seemed like they were seeing themselves aiming one way but were actually aiming the completely wrong one. Faerie illusions, it had to be! The bullets that met their mark embedded in the armor of the knights or bounced off of it, which implied it most definitely wasn't of wholly mortal make. The knights, though, did a damn fine job of not getting hit, scattering but never too far that they couldn't swiftly regroup. In only seconds, Arthur's Elite were too close in proximity for guns to be of any use anymore. The two end knights dropped to the ground, sliding their way under the first row of men and getting up swift, meeting the weapons of both the first and the second rows, standing back to back to face them. The next two charged in and opened with spinning slashes before breaking off into their own unique fighting styles to take on those trying to reach the first two. The king from his horse mowed down whatever soldier dared to try and stand in his way, only leaping from it when it had brushed too closely with death too many times for his comfort. The man was a horse lover. Hans inwardly let out a breath of relief. It seemed Lot would rather fight on foot than have the poor thing killed under him.

Killian and Hans could only gape on in disbelief and awe as a squad of five men, no more, took on a whole company of soldiers, at the very least one-hundred, solo! Twenty soldiers to one knight, if not thirty considering the company of soldiers numbered closer to one-hundred-fifty. "Who are these men? Who is the Duke and his men?!" Killian demanded of Hans, pointing towards Lot and co in half horror half marvel.

"Ancient Kind of mortal realm, who long ago wore Orkney's crown," Hans quoted the fairies, tone even and calm. Killian could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Hans looked back at the group. "He's the 'Duke' of Orkney. That's all you should care to know. And he's a more powerful 'Duke' than you'll ever be…" He stopped himself from claiming the man was a ruler to rival Scotland's King. The last thing he needed was the King of Scotland hunting down a potential rival he didn't understand. "The fairies likened him to King Lot of Orkney. Of Arthurian Legend. Hence, 'Of Arthur's court and his Knights we sing'. So plainly he's not to be trifle with, and you may have just made a very, very volatile enemy. And they've come for me, so do yourself a favor and let me go while you still can. Before they make you."

Killian reacted by kicking Hans violently, knocking him down. Hans cried out in pain. Killian seized his hair and all but threw him over the chopping block. "They come for a body," he replied. He looked at the head executioner. "Finish it now!"

The man immediately raised his axe, moving to put the King-Consort to death, but all at once there were men there. Two of them. Sir Kay, Hans saw, and Lot himself who fell immediately to battle with a shocked and alarmed Killian! Chaos erupted, screaming started, people began fleeing, arrows and bullets began firing, and swords and weapons flashed in the light. In all that chaos, Hans felt the chains on his wrists and ankles shatter. He gasped in shock, jerking up from the chopping block and scrambling to his feet. What on Earth had just…?

"Run!" the green-clad fairy shouted at him, suddenly appearing before his eyes. The fairies! Of course! He didn't even bother questioning, just leapt from the execution stage into the crowd, shoving his way through them making a break for the sea automatically, even despite knowing there would be no ship to swim to. He would still stand a better chance in the ocean than he would here on land, he figured. "Toward the forest, young prince, the forest, not the sea! Turn your course and don't stop running or look back!" the green-clad fairy insisted, flying right alongside him determinedly, acting as his guide. He didn't question her orders, just listened to her directive not to look back or stop running. He would ask questions later. Right now, survival was the only thing on his mind! He heard screaming and panic echoing behind him. He could only assume that meant the rest of the fairies had thrown the area into confusion to give him a chance to get away alive.

"What are they seeing?!" Hans shouted. They sounded terrified.

"One-hundred-fifty knights all around," she answered vaguely, though doubtless she thought she'd given him more than satisfying information. It was the truth, after all. The blunt truth. He had a million questions more he'd like to ask to get her to elaborate, but now wasn't the time for them. Nor should he bother getting hung up on them at all. Whatever illusion was being cast, it was giving him the chance to escape. The green-clad fairy soared forth, leading him towards the woods. The forest was nearing. Bullets soared overhead, and he knew he would probably be dead right now if not for the fae surrounding and protecting him.

"Where do I run?!" he exclaimed in fear to her.

"You just run," she answered. He gasped in near panic. The forest was there! He raced into it, the cooling shadows consuming him. He heard dogs barking behind him, tracking him. He heard rifles going off, the shouting of pursuing men, the thundering of horses' hooves, the clashing of a battle as the knights tried to turn his pursuers away from him and onto them.

"I can't outrun them! Tell me where to go! _Please_!" he pled.

"You just go," she answered. "Trust in us."

"You don't trust the fae!" Hans shouted.

"Yes you do! At least us," she insisted. Huh. Naïve and young sounding fairy, he dryly noted in that moment. Which didn't reassure him at all.

The dogs seemed to split all around him. As he fled, he saw their shadows in the trees bounding passed, baying and howling and searching. He looked on either side with a gasp, mystified that they couldn't see him. Horses with riders followed them shouting orders, the ones who'd managed to escape the skirmish to pursue their prisoner. Namely the constables and wardens of the generic police force. The knights wouldn't be paying as much attention to them. Soldiers were their 'equivalent'. They probably didn't even really know what police were, so they had no clue of the intent of his pursuers. But they knew damn well what the soldiers' intent was.

"What's happening?" Hans asked.

"Illusion," the fairy answered. "They surround you and confound them, protect you and hide you from their sight. But not for long. Our queen's illusions, and ours, are not strong enough to protect you for long; which is why you absolutely must listen to me."

"The knights. You sang of knights. Of Arthur's court," Hans said, panting for breath.

"Follow us," she insisted without offering further detail.

"Talk to me, please!" Hans pled.

"They heard of your plight, and they acted in your favor," she answered. "They came for you, sailing along the coast on a young and unseasoned ship."

"A ship? Really?" he asked in hope.

"The two who remained upon it to keep it close are near," she said. Hans and the fairies broke from the forest. The dogs were on the trail again, properly this time, and the horses. The bullets once more were whizzing just passed his head. "Jump," the fairy whispered. "Do not hesitate, just jump. Jump as far as you can."

"What?!" he exclaimed. He gasped, looking ahead. He was coming up on a cliff's edge! "Are you crazy? The waves will dash me to pieces on the rocks!"

"Jump!" the fairy shouted.

"Jump," another echoed.

"Jump young prince!" another insisted.

"Jump!" yet another pushed until all of them were repeating the word over and over. Hans inwardly let out a string of curses, but nonetheless the moment he reached the edge of the cliff he pushed off, taking a flying leap and shouting in fear and alarm as he plummeted down through the air towards the sea below!

Frozen

He crashed into the water, sinking deeply under the waves. He swam frantically forwards and up towards the surface, regretting every second of this. He broke the water and gasped. He'd made it. He'd made it! And the waves were calm here! He began to swim, though he didn't know where he was supposed to swim. He just knew that questioning things seemed to never end well for him, so he kept going aimlessly, trying to put as much distance between himself and his pursuers as possible. Suddenly a noise was heard, haunting and dark. He almost stopped swimming upon hearing it.

"Keep going," the fairy said near to him. So he did. He kept swimming, and when the ship sailed out from behind a large rock mass, his heart leapt into his throat in hope. Desperately he moved towards it. He was almost there, almost there… A rope! They threw him a rope! He seized it fast and felt himself being quickly hauled up into the boat. He could have sobbed, but he wasn't in the clear yet. He collapsed onto the deck of the ship and scrambled onto hands and knees coughing and gasping and spitting out salt water. "Sail away as fast as you can!" he shouted out frantically before even taking the time to look at his rescuer. He knew it was the sixth knight who had remained behind. The strong hands grasping his arms and resting on his back to help him cough and breathe again, the feel of armor, cold yet in this moment more comforting than anything he'd felt in a long time. The ship banked sharp, cutting back through the water and away from the cliffs.

_He looked back…_

_He saw Death standing there atop the mighty cliffs…_

He gasped and spun around quickly in terror, eyes wide. He'd looked back. He'd looked back! Oh shit he'd looked back! He cried out in terror, leaping about a foot when he felt the sudden touch of bony, horrifying fingers on the back of his neck… His heart pounded half out of his chest. The knight at his side, Alisander he realized now, looked quickly up, concerned at the fear he was displaying. He couldn't see it. He couldn't see it!

"Do not look back again," one of the older fairies said, sounding angry, impatient, and concerned all at the same time. "Not even once, no matter what it says or does to you. A deal has been made for your life, but the fae do nothing without price. There was a clause to that deal, that meant your life or your death. This was Clarion's… That you not look back even once until Arendelle is in sight once more…"

"That isn't possible," he said in a strained whisper.

"Yes it is. You need to _make_ it so," the fairy in green answered. "It isn't an impossible task."

"It's breathing on me," he whispered hoarsely.

"Death doesn't breathe," one of the other fairies ominously replied. Hans nearly passed out, stumbling a bit.

Frozen

It wasn't long before King Lot had rejoined the ship with the others. They'd sailed close to shore, and the knights had broken immediately away from the fray to go to the ship, swimming their way there much like he had. The armor couldn't be very heavy, which again gave rise the suspicion it wasn't of wholly human make. The fairies had a hand in this, he knew they did. They had to! There was no other explanation. Immediately after they boarded the ship once more, it pulled away from land rapidly, sailing once more along the coast back the way it had come. Eventually the sounds of shouting died down, but they all knew Duke Killian wasn't through with them yet…

The green-clad fairy flew towards the Knights. Hans began to will himself to think more clearly again and pick out who each man was. Kay, Menw, Hoel, Dinadan, Lot. Alisander had waited on the boat. Mordred was nowhere to be found, and somehow that made him more unsettled than even the feeling of death lingering over his shoulder breathing on him, icy fingers of bone dancing on the back of his neck. The little fairy spoke to the knights in private, and they turned once more to look at Hans with expressions concerned and reassuring. He felt safe… For a brief moment, he felt safe again and felt like maybe he could do this…

It was Alexander who approached him first. "Ignore his presence," the once-emperor said to him calmly. "Thanatos is not your enemy."

"Death is my enemy, Alisander," Hans answered numbly.

"Ignore his presence behind you, and soon enough he'll go away," Alexander insisted.

"Until I look back," Hans said.

"You're safe now," Alexander promised, taking the young prince's shoulders firmly. "You're safe…"

"Will we stay to the sea from now on," Hans answered in a whisper.

"No… This ship was borrowed. It will not be long before we make landfall again. But even should they catch you, you won't face them alone," Alexander stated. "We'll lead you through this and bring you to safety, whatever it takes. That's a promise." Hans nodded. A wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over him and he let out a fatigued sigh, falling against Alexander and closing his eyes tightly. "Come on. We'll lay you down to get some rest," Alexander assured, helping him towards one of the cabins on board…

_Death will pursue you clear to Arendelle… Do not let yourself believe that their pursuit will stop when they are beyond their country's borders…_

Frozen

Hans sat on deck with the knights and a crew of nameless faces quietly, carving at a piece of wood distractedly. He had slept a few hours. They were going to come into port later tonight and he was preparing for the worst. "How did you know to find me?" he asked the knight next to him, finally. Sir Kay.

Kay, leaning on the railing, looked over at him silently. "Menw learned from your brother Caleb about your fate. He pledged him our help in retrieving you either dead or alive. He found us on our way back to the docks. Our intent was to return to the Orkney Islands from the mainland, but before we could, he brought the sordid story back to Lot.

"And the fairies?" Hans asked.

"They knew where you were," Kay answered. "Simple as that. They knew where you were, we didn't, and they found us and they told us everything. They advise our course of action. They said to take banners and instruments and make a show of our arrival, but they expected more than six men and a little boy when they found us. Fortunately, we're no strangers to making dramatic entrances with or without a big company. The Green Knight had it down to a fine art and shamed most any of us in solo entrances, but that's beside the point. Lot assured them we as just five could handle it and quickly drafted out the crest of Orkney on the ground, trying to figure out how to incorporate it quickly into banners. To pull off a stunt like the one we just pulled off, and get away with it for the most part, you need to look official about it. Not like some militia group. The fairies were obliging on the condition we bought the cloth and thread and beads and the chainmail; and we did, and we brought a few other things too, and the next thing we know they've woven the banner of Orkney in all its glory and formed armor for us, enchanted to their best ability against the modern weaponry we know nothing about, though not foolproof.

Money and the promise it would be us to do any fighting that might be done, swayed the crew to our way of thinking. With the fairies as our guides the course changed for the city in which you were being held. Now our plan is to sail back to the mainland port we departed from. There we will disembark again, and we'll take you home. Not Lot and Mordred, Lot will head back to Orkney with his whelp, but the rest of us."

Hans was quiet. "The boy is here, then… I suppose I should have suspected as much… You were on your way home from the mainland, of course he would have been with you." Silence. "Does he know?" Hans asked after a moment.

"He's being kept busy in the galley. Alisander has kept him away from the deck and from you thus far. He knows there was fighting, he knows something is going on, but Lot's soothing words have pacified his curiosity for the time being," Kay replied. Silence. The knight turned to the prince. "Why didn't you try to escape? You have powers, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes," Hans replied quietly. Yes, he had powers. "I don't know why I didn't use them… Maybe trauma, maybe weakness, maybe fear… I didn't want to become a murderer again… Maybe part of me thought death would be for the better anyway…" Silence. "He's still here," Hans said, voice haunted. "Lingering."

He spoke of Death, Kay realized quick enough. He wasn't as dull-witted as many thought. "Keep your eyes looking ahead to the future, not turned towards the past," he replied to the young prince. "You're going to go home. You're going to make it back to your wife and unborn child… Everything will be okay again…" Hans was quiet. "Hey," Kay said. Hans glanced over. Kay lifted his palm, turning it up, and slowly but suely it began to glow with an encompassing flame, growing more and more intensely hot by the second. Hans stared blankly, trying to process what he was seeing. He looked at Kay in shock. "In the old Welsh legends… Surely you've read them… That Sir Kay the Seneschal had…

"The ability to radiate supernatural heat from his hands," Hans realized in a breath, eyes widening as that long-forgotten memory retuned to him. A memory of a loving mother who took the time to read stories of adventure and bravery; knights and heroes throughout all of history both myth and fact, who overcame severe obstacles and became better… Like she'd wanted him to do… Like he'd failed to do…

Kay shrugged. "Most easily manifested in fire, though it isn't the only method at my disposal… If you're scared of the things you can do, I can help you… _I_ was scared too…"

"It seems _both_ my brother and I will have a mentor in a knight of the Round Table," Hans replied, forcing a bit of a smile. Kay grunted an affirmation and turned to look out towards the passing shoreline again. "You have other powers," Hans remember. "What were they? You could… grow as high as the tallest tree in the forest you were in! You could go, um, nine? Twelve? Some ridiculous number of days and nights without needing to eat, sleep, drink, or breathe."

"I don't talk about them," Kay replied.

"Why?" Hans replied.

"Because I never used them to their full potential. Even when I should have. I squandered my talents instead of utilizing them, and thus when I needed them most, they failed me. Or I failed them… Then they became an object of terror to the ones they shouldn't have been an enemy to… Don't make my mistake, Hans. I can help you not to."

"I think I would like that," Hans answered, nodding in understanding.

Frozen

It was about ten at night. He was on the deck alone. He felt the presence behind him… But this time it wasn't the presence of death… Somehow it felt more frightening still… He drew a shaking breath, looking quickly down and swallowing. He closed his eyes and let out a wavering stream of air that was almost accompanied by a whimper, but he savagely bit any such possible sound back.

"_Dammit_…" he whispered under his breath. Breathe, breathe, just breathe…

_Do not look back again…_

Suddenly that statement was so much more ominous than it had already been…

_Do not look back again…_

Maybe the death following him now wasn't to come from the Scottish King's vassal and his soldiers…

"Turn around. Look at me," the young voice stated stoically.

_Do not look back again…_

Hans swallowed thickly. It was just a child. Just a little boy…

_Do not look back again…_

He let out a shuddering breath. "I don't need to look at you to know who you are," he answered calmly. "You are the child I sorely, sorely wronged. The child whose life I ruined… Your image has been branded into my mind since the day I spared you from death and gave you a name that was your name more truly than I could have imagined… I don't need to turn around and look to know you and see you, Mordred."

_Shit he was a dead man. He was a dead man walking._

Silence met his reply. "Why won't you turn around and look at me?" the boy asked.

"Because… Because you are still a Knight of the Round Table… What little honor you have will not permit you to murder a man whose back is turned to you," Hans replied.

Silence again. "Coward," the boy finally said.

"I'm a man who wants to go home, who wants to hold his wife in his arm, who wants to cradle his unborn child close and be its father," Hans replied. "So, in that sense maybe I'm a coward. But I'm also a father. And I'm not ready to fight you, or willing to… I will not murder a child… But you would murder me…"

"Look behind you," the boy said again. "Face the life you ruined."

"No," Hans replied.

"Look back!" Mordred shouted.

"No," Hans said, teeth gritted tightly and grinding. He heard the boy sniff and his resolve almost faltered, but he kept it together denying the instinct to turn and try to sooth or comfort the little one who he just knew and sensed was in tears now. Tears of rage, of confusion, of grief, of pain… And it was all because of him… Him and what he had been… What he still was…

Silence reigned. "I'll kill you one day," the boy finally said. "For everything you did to me. For all you've done to others… I'll kill you…"

"Maybe you will," Hans answered. "But I'm not ready to die just yet. I have a life to live still. Goals to achieve, things that I want to do. You do too… I never ruined your life, Mordred. I ruined seven years of what could be decades. Decades free of that agony you suffered, free of the wrongs you were put through, free to exist as your own person again. The pain you went through because of me doesn't need to be allowed to fester and continue anymore. It doesn't need to be allowed to define the rest of your existence. You could have goals too… Goals that amount to more than killing the man who put a damper on your childhood!"

"You think a damper was all it was?!" Mordred snapped furiously.

"I think that you have the power to move _passed_ what it was," Hans said. "You could live a life full and happy and healthy… You don't have to miss out on another lifetime. Let it go. Maybe not all the way, but enough that you can live. Please." Mordred was quiet. The boy didn't speak again and Hans wondered if he was even still there, if he'd even heard anything he'd said, but he didn't turn around. He didn't look back.

_Death would find him then…_


	10. The Attack of Mor'du

.

The Attack of Mor'du

The port was in sight. The ship would soon dock. Then Lot and Mordred would go home, and he would leave with the knights who would thereafter accompany him through Scotland and into England, perhaps even all the way to Arendelle. As soon as it was in sight, he would be home free. Ugh, this was going to be the longest trip of his life! All of them disembarked say for Mordred and Lot. They didn't look back at the ship.

"Train is the quickest way to travel through Britain," Hans said to his companions.

"First we have to get you out of enemy territory," Hoel said. "The safest way out of Scotland will be on foot. Then we know for sure there are no spies searching for you nearby." Hans conceded. They heard the ship pulling away from the port behind them. The fairies had left sometime in the night, content to leave him in the company of the knights. He felt that maybe they were still watching just in case, though. After all, they had a promise they needed to ensure was upheld…

Hours of travel later he had just started to feel safe again when suddenly it happened. Menw, scouting from the sky, returned with a fearful and worried report. "Mordred is following us," he said.

"What?!" Alexander demanded, spinning around.

"Are you kidding me?" Dinadan demanded, eyes wide.

"He must have slipped off the ship! The good news is that Lot is probably in pursuit. It wouldn't have taken him long to realize the boy wasn't on board," Menw said.

"We should maybe stop and wait for them then?" Hoel uneasily said. "If we can't shake them, we might as well all travel together. We just won't accompany Hans all the way back home."

"How about let's not?" Hans replied.

"They'll be of use if the Scots catch up," Kay said.

"What, there are more than you can handle?" Hans asked.

"No, but better safe than sorry. It only takes one mistake," Kay replied, frowning at him and folding his arms. "The more people there to cover your errors, the better off you are."

"The more doomed _I'll_ be!" Hans retorted.

"He's seven," Kay said.

"And I'm pretty sure he almost murdered me last night! If I remember right, it was around ten PM, before we got into port," Hans said with a sigh.

"They'll catch us now or when we're sleeping. Do you want Mordred to catch you asleep?" Menw ominously said. Hans froze in place. "We should set up camp anyway," Menw continued.

"Fine," Hans finally relented, though he was obviously not happy with this turn of events.

Frozen

Mordred had come within an inch of having his hide tanned by Lot, when his adoptive father had caught up with him at the campsite where he had been sitting sulkily, plunked firmly by Alexander's side. Now he was flanked by both Alexander _and_ Lot. "When will you learn you can't outfox us?" Alexander demanded of the boy.

"Never, since I can," Mordred retorted. And did, he inwardly added.

"Eat your food and go to bed," Lot snarled darkly at the boy. Mordred tensed up, looking up at the man with eyes wide in fear and uncertainty. He shrank in on himself a bit and quickly went back to eating. This was Lot's 'wolf mode', they used to call it. When he took on traits pretty similar to male dogs and wolves dealing with their rowdy pups. That meant lots of snapping and sharp oftentimes mildly painful corrections of bad behavior. When Lot was in wolf mode, you didn't jerk him around.

"I'll take first watch," Hans offered. "Keep the fire going, maybe hunt some game for breakfast tomorrow." Also, the earlier he did his watch detail the more likely others were to be awake or easily woken if something happened and he suddenly needed help.

"As you wish," Lot granted, glaring daggers at Mordred who was attempting to stall now. The moment Mordred finished the last bite, Lot looked ready to seize him and pull him to the tent, but the man refrained. Doubtless to spare Mordred any potential triggers. "Bed. Now," he firmly said instead, pointing. Mordred shifted, looked ready to argue, then decided the better of it and huffed, marching towards the tent pouting. Lot harrumphed then finished his own food before rising and heading to the tent too. "Leave in the morning before he wakes up," he directed. "If it's at all possible to." Hans doubted highly that it would be at all possible to.

Eventually the knights retired to their tents, leaving the prince alone by the fire. Hans sighed softly and began poking at it to keep himself entertained. It would need more wood pretty soon. He should go gather some. "I'm going to get wood," he said out loud to any of them who might still be awake. Just so they knew where he was off to. He heard Kay grumble something from inside his tent that sounded like an affirmative answer. Hans smirked, shaking his head, then rose to go scavenge for flammable materials.

Frozen

He knew about five minutes in he was being followed, and suddenly he was a lot less relaxed because he also knew _who_ was following him. He reminded himself not to look back. Just don't look back and it would all be good. He bent to collect firewood, keeping an ear out. He looked around, but not behind him, searching for a sign of the boy. How close was he? Where was he? Did he have some sort of plot in the works? Was he… Hans yelped, cutting himself short upon looking ahead once again. There, perched on a rock, was Mordred with a little small-sword in his hands. The child glared at him darkly from the rock and Hans' heart was racing about a mile a minute.

_His back wasn't turned. His back wasn't turned!_

There was utter stillness between them, Mordred staring at him and him staring back. Hans wondered if this could be an exception to not looking back again? Mordred tilted his head then looked down at the ground, using the small-sword to draw pictures in the dust. "I've decided not to kill you. At least not right now. Isn't that nice of me?"

"Yeah. Touching," Hans replied dryly, still braced for something.

"Maybe I'll wait until tomorrow. Or the next day. Maybe I'll wait until your baby is my age that I am now," the boy said, looking darkly up at him again. That would put Mordred at fourteen? Ugh, still too young for him to be comfortable with fighting him to the death, but also the age he _really_ would have to start watching his back.

"Sweet of you to let me be a father for a little while," Hans replied. "But I still won't fight you when you're that young."

"The longer you wait, the more potent I'll be," Mordred replied. "Maybe you could stand against me now… You won't when I'm bigger."

Hans was quiet. The boy… almost sounded scared of himself? That was unsettling… Silence. "I know what it's like to feel afraid of yourself," he finally dared to say.

Mordred glanced up at him warily. "Kill me now, you live. Hold off for later, you die," the child finally said; words that shouldn't have come from the lips of a seven-year-old.

"I might die even when you're _this_ little," Hans said. Especially if he looked back before he was supposed to… It would take only one mistake of turning around when Mordred was about to have a fit or an episode, and there would be nothing anyone could do for him.

"That would be nice," Mordred said almost wistfully.

"Thank you for giving me a chance to be a father," Hans amended, hoping to appeal to the boy's better nature. In some of the oldest legends—Welsh he was pretty sure, it was often Welsh—Mordred had been a bit more positive of a figure in the mythos. At least if he recalled right. Not the monster he was made into in later ones. But it was most likely that perhaps the earlier stories had better reflected what the boy had been _before_ the manipulations of his aunt and mother had finally and totally corrupted him… Yes, he recalled something like that. In early Welsh stories, not necessarily Arthurian ones though likely linked, this boy in front of him had been described as having a good nature and a nature of valour in battle… He could see it sometimes… Like in this respite offered to him and in the fact Mordred would not attack him when his back was turned; little brief moments like that, that hinted that… that maybe once upon a time this child could have been something great…

Mordred stared at him silently, obviously unsure what to do with this gratitude he was being shown. After a moment, he opted for a nod of acknowledgement. "I'm going back to bed," he said, sliding off the rock.

"Arthur gerdernyd, menwyd Medrawd," Hans suddenly said, Mordred paused. "Arthur's strength, the good nature of Medrawd," the prince translated, though he probably hadn't needed to. "It was part of a description written of a Welsh king of old. A lament for a different Welsh King claimed the dead man had your nature of valor in battle." Mordred was quiet. "Amr I think was another name associated with you? Along with Medrawd? Maybe you wouldn't know that, though."

"Amr was what Sagremore's father called me," Mordred said quietly and a bit quickly. "Before he knew my real one…" He paused, thinking the descriptions over quietly. "Maybe once upon a time I had a chance to be a good person."

"You can still be," Hans said.

"How do you know?" Mordred asked, head bowed.

"You made me your surrogate Arthur, little one, but Arthur is not who I am… I'm _you_… I think that that perhaps is why you really hate me," Hans said quietly. "I just lived long enough to be able to have the chance to smarten up." Mordred was quiet, shifting a bit. "I'll walk back with you," Hans said after a moment. Mordred started forward again with a huff. Just then, though, a terrifying roar echoed out in the distance. Mordred froze, gasping, quickly looking in the direction of it. So did Hans, and Hans went pale. Silence a long moment. The roar sounded again, closer this time.

"A bear?" Mordred asked. "It must be _huge_."

"We're going back to camp. Right now. You're going to wake your father, you're going to wake the others, and we need to go. Immediately," Hans said. Mordred looked curiously at him, now a little worried. "Now, Mordred!" Hans shot. Mordred started then quickly scrambled back. Hans followed him closely and quietly.

"It's just a bear," Mordred said, sounding vaguely annoyed but also uneasy.

"I wish to the gods it was just a bear," Hans answered, hurrying the boy along. Another roar. It was even closer… He cursed under his breath. "Faster," he whispered to Mordred. Mordred hurried onwards uneasily. Just then another enraged roar, and they both froze, gasping.

"That sounded close to the camp," Mordred said nervously.

"Come on. We have to hurry!" Hans said, seizing the boy's hand and running—half-dragging actually, as Mordred couldn't quite keep up—towards the camp as quickly as he could manage to go towing Mordred behind him.

Frozen

The knights jerked awake at the sound of the very close, very loud, very unnerving roar. In their own tents they were still, listening carefully. The trees around them creaked and cracked and groaned… Then heavy footsteps and heavy movement could be heard just outside… Huffing, growling, heaving, another roar, then silence. The knights were utterly still, each in their own tent. Every single one of them either reached for or drew their weapons, preparing to face whatever was out there. There was utter silence…

Suddenly a roar bellowed out, enraged and emboldened. Dinadan shouted in alarm as all at once massive claws tore through his tent and ripped a hole in the fabric! The knight shouted a curse, bolting to get out as the massive head of the creature followed right after and let loose with a murderous roar! "What the hell?!" Dinadan freaked, darting outside and spinning around as the others shot from their tents to back him up. They all gasped, gawking at the creature there. A bear! The largest, most massive, darkest colored bear that any of them had ever seen before in their lives! Chuffing, it ripped apart the tent to free itself and slowly, dramatically, stood up on its back legs, rising to full height. The knights' mouths slowly dropped in awe and disbelief as the massive beast towering above them, each of them looking horrified.

"Oh my gods…" Hoel said in horrified wonder.

It let out a furious bellow and came crashing down, falling towards them with its massive paws outstretched, claws huge and sharp and deadly. "Split!" Lot shouted. The knights immediately scrambled out of the way. Kay, closest, spun immediately back around, bringing his two-handed axe down on the creature's neck in an effort to behead it. The axe only went part way through before it could go no more. The bear reared up with a roar of pain, dragging Kay from the ground. He gave a shout of surprise. The bear tossed him and the axe away from him like they were ragdolls. Kay landed in the fire, sending sparks and flaming pieces of wood everywhere. He screamed, writhing and rolling out of the pit, frantically batting at the coals. Some of the scattered coals and burning wood landed near the tents, and a fire began to form as the dying flames licked at the material and grasped desperately for fuel to keep itself sustained.

"Kay!" Alexander shouted in concern.

Kay, cursing, raised himself on his arms. "I'm okay!" he called. Burned badly, he would need salves and ointments applied as quickly as possible to his whole back, but he was alive and he was mobile so he was okay enough to stay in this fight.

The bear swiped at Alexander with a roar. The once-emperor spotted it coming out the corner of his eyes and ducked quickly, spinning at the same time and swinging his sword in an arc to meet the bear's paw. Mor'du bellowed in agony as the sword embedded itself into said paw, but again the blade didn't go through, and when the bear flung its paw in pain back at the once-emperor, Alexander was sent flying across the field. He crashed into one of the other tents with a shout of pain. It collapsed on him and he scrambled out from under it with a gasp, staring at the beast aghast. That was no normal bear. He shook his head and scowled, scrambling up again and gripping his sword. Lot ran up to him and examined him quickly for any outward injuries. "Good?" the king asked.

"Good," Alexander replied. "I don't think our swords are going to _cut_ through that thing's layers of fat and insanely tough skin! This bear isn't like any other I've ever seen!

"Perhaps not, but it will share the same fate as they nonetheless," Lot replied, looking back at it.

Hoel, learning from Kay and Alexander's mistakes, decided fighting at close-range was probably a stupid idea and subtly put distance between himself and the bear before starting to fire arrows into it, aiming for the head, face, underbelly—more specifically the genital area—and whatever other region he could shoot at. He wasn't the best archer here, but he was passable and most of his arrows stayed true. Dinadan as well began with the tactic, a better archer than Hoel. He hadn't been the best archer of the Round Table, but he was probably the best archer among the six of them that were currently, well, alive and breathing.

The bear roared in agony as one of Dinadan's arrows hit the genital area. "Oh shit!" was Dinadan's default response, which meant Hoel was probably wrong to have been aiming there and incredibly fortunate he hadn't hit. Sure enough, the next second the bear was pretty well rabidly bearing down on the knight. A string of four-letter words spilled from Dinadan's mouth as he ran in horror for dear life, heading for a tree for all the good that would do. "Someone save me!" he frantically shouted.

Hoel aimed again and shot at the bear's butt. Best to probably split its rage between them so it couldn't tell which one it would rather kill anymore. It met the mark and the bear reared up before whirling and charging _him_. Kay leapt into action, radiating heat from his hands and sending a blast into the bear's side powerful enough that it knocked it down, sending it rolling. Mor'du scrambled up with a pained roar, pawing frantically at the burn and spinning in circles a moment. Lot raced towards it and drove his sword at its face. It turned its head in time to avoid losing an eye, but the blade pierced through its cheeks putting it in agony, roaring in suffering and beginning to back up. Lot withdrew the sword before he could be assailed by one of the massive paws. Quickly he fell back. The bear, semi-recovering, bellowed again and ran towards the most closely gathered part of the group. They braced themselves then charged it right back, parting last second to either side. Every one of them threw out their weapons to slash the charging beast as it ran between them. It swiped its great paw back, clocking Hoel and sending him flying with a yelp of pain. Hoel crashed to the ground badly bleeding. Swiftly Alisander swooped in, pulling him away from the fight and filling the gap he'd left behind. Kay ran to Hoel-who was struggling to drag himself away and gasping in pain-to try and cauterize the scratches. This fight was _not_ going to be fun.

Menw tuned around and began to shapeshift himself into the bear's exact replica. He reared up with an infuriated roar and charged at Mor'du, chuffing and snarling.

Frozen

Hans and Mordred ran through the forest and finally came to the edge. Hans gasped, sliding to a stop and ducking down into the brush immediately, pulling Mordred with him. Hans and Mordred both gaped in shock at the scene below. More than one tent was on fire, others were collapsed. The knights were scattered below, spread out in an attempt to surround the bear. Hoel was badly injured and currently Alisander too was crouched on the ground, arm wrapped around his side tightly obviously trying to stem the blood flow of a bad, bad wound.

"It's just a bear!" Mordred exclaimed, pale.

"No it's not," Hans answered. "That bear is called Mor'du, and prophecy tells that only the strength of another bear will be able to conquer him."

"Menw!" Mordred exclaimed, pointing at the shapeshifter now locked in combat with Mor'du.

"You think shape-shifters haven't tried before?" Hans asked. "Among the first tactics my brother tried against it was to shapeshift into a bear! I _wish_ it was that simple. Only the strength of a cursed bear like he was cursed will end it," Hans said.

"Your brother just sucked! And Menw _is_ cursed!" Mordred snapped. Hans had half a mind to cuff him up the side of the head or box his ears, but refrained.

"Guileless little boy," Hans said.

Mordred stiffened at the term and shot him a sharp, accusing glare before turning back to the fight nervously, shifting in discomfort. "Why aren't we helping?" he fearfully asked.

"I'll help, but _you_ need to stay out of the way," Hans warned.

"Why?!" Mordred demanded.

"Because you're too little, Mordred, that's why!" Hans shot. "You can't expect me to let you go down there and end up bear food! Now do what I say and just stay…" There was a pained roar and Hans spun around. Menw was on the ground. Mor'du trying to bite out his throat. "Dammit!" Hans exclaimed. Another superheated blast from Kay's hands sent Mor'du rolling off Menw. Lot leapt forth, driving his sword again at Mor'du, aiming to run it through the massive jaws and out the back of the head. He did it too, but Mor'du would not die. Mor'du roared in agony and rolled, swinging Lot over and slamming him to the ground. It pinned the man below it and drove itself further down the sword with jaws open to bite off the man's head.

"Lot!" Mordred screamed before Hans could stop him, and both the bear and Lot looked sharply over, Lot gasping in alarm. Oh no. The bear's eyes darted back to the once-king, who glanced back at the bear also. It reared up with a roar, lifting Lot off the ground and into the air before charging towards the edge of a cliff. Lot dropped from the sword and protected his head and vital organs by curling up tight as the beast trampled over him. Mor'du, not to be deterred, spun back around and all but scooped the man up with a large paw, throwing him across the field and rolling him right to the cliff's edge. The other knights raced to aid their comrade. Dinadan went as far as to leap onto the bear's back and start wantonly stabbing at every vital area he possibly could. Kay grabbed the fur and began to punch the bear in the facial area and wherever else he could with superheated hands, scorching it. The other hand clinging onto the fur burned hotter and hotter. The two kept delivering damage until the bear was starting to stagger, but it kept going until the pain of the burning, the stabs, and the arrows pursuing it became unbearable and caused it to finally stumble and topple to the ground, its massive bulk rolling and forcing both Kay and Dinadan to let go with shouts of alarm.

Dinadan was thrown a little distance away, the inertia of the fall flinging him. Kay wasn't. Kay screamed in anguish as the bear rolled over his body. Dinadan half got up and flung himself out of the way, just barely avoiding being crushed beneath the massive body as Kay had been. The bear slid on its side right towards Lot! Lot gasped, paling. He cried out as the bear slammed into him, taking him over the edge of the cliffs _with_ it!

"Lot, Lot!" Mordred screamed in terror, trying to run down to them.

"Mordred no!" Hans exclaimed, catching the boy and holding him back.

"No! Let go! Let go!" Mordred demanded. "Daddy!" Suddenly, though, Menw was up and in the form of a massive phoenix, instantly diving over the cliffs in pursuit of Lot. Just as Menw disappeared over the edge, the great bear's massive paw reached up over it and the beast began to drag itself slowly and painfully back up. Hans' eyes widened in horror. Dinadan was at Kay's side, Hans saw, leaning over the other and frantically checking on him, afraid his friend had been crushed to death when the bear had rolled over him. When the bear chuffed again, though, Dinadan's eyes snapped back and widened in fear, his lips parting in disbelief. Alisander charged by with Hoel, weapons drawn. They took up defensive positions between the beast and the injured Kay, and Dinadan who was doctoring him.

Hans scowled. "Stay here!" he ordered Mordred before rising and racing down to the knights to join them, quickly taking up a defensive position at their sides and lighting his now-drawn pistol and his sword with fire.

He shot a flaming bullet between Mor'du's eyes hoping against hope to finish it. The bear reared back but didn't let go of the cliff, climbing up farther. Hans emptied the gun into the creature's face until it was just a mess of blood and bullets and roaring fury, but it kept coming! Finally Mor'du made it back onto solid ground, but he didn't stand. He looked like he was trying to, he was struggling to get up, but he couldn't. Mor'du couldn't get up! Hans' lips parted in disbelief. Mor'du tried once more and this time it looked like it might succeed and come at them again, but all at once Menw shot up from over the edge of the cliff, Lot clinging to his back. Lot leapt down, landing on the bear and driving his sword into the face. Menw dove down, turning back into a man again, and spun, driving two blades into both of Mor'du's paws. Mor'du bellowed in agony. Menw leapt up, flipping over its head and transforming into a massive bird-like creature, sinking its talons into Mor'du. Lot leapt off of the bear as Menw dragged Mor'du off of the cliff, flying high into the sky and over the ocean as Mor'du raged. Then the shape-shifter dropped him from the sky and flew straight back, transforming into a man again and landing on the cliff before looking sharply and spitefully back as the bear tumbled towards the ocean and crashed down into it!

Frozen

There was silence and stillness as they all came to the cliff and stared, watching keenly for the bear to resurface. It didn't, though that was no guarantee it was gone. No one spoke. They barely breathed. Not even Mordred, when he approached quietly and latched himself around Lot and clung to him, spoke. "You brought it down," Hans finally said in awe and shock. "You brought Mor'du to the ground… And he _stayed_ there! No one's ever done that before." People had caused it to fall before and in that sense had 'brought him to the ground'—Elsa and he and his brothers were some of the ones who'd done that in fact, and people who could accomplish even that were incredibly rare—but Mor'du had _never_, in all the time Hans had known him to exist, _stayed_ there. Not for as long as he had this time. "You-you brought Mor'du to the ground…"

The knights were silent. "You mentioned a bear before," Lot finally said. "That was it, then?"

"Only ancient ancestors of me and my brothers were able to actually kill it, one in the form of a bear," Hans said. Temporarily, admittedly, the curse had been passed down still, but that was beside the point! "Even _then_ it was a standing stone that finished him off as far as I remember the legend." Kind of fitting actually. The knights were silent again. Lot soon picked Mordred up, holding him close to him. "I can't believe what I've seen," Hans said after a moment.

"The bullets did a good number on him," Kay wryly remarked, voice painful and forced. They looked worriedly over at him. He was only standing by virtue of Dinadan and Hoel supporting him.

"Shi…oot, you need help," Hans said in alarm, eyes becoming concerned. Dinadan and Hoel gently sat Kay down, Dinadan letting his friend lay against him. Hans looked around. "And you and Sir Alisander as well, Sir Hoel," he added.

"My wounds have been cauterized," Hoel said. "I'll live."

"Mine I've wrapped," Alisander said. "I'll make it with mostly basic treatment after they're stitched. It's Kay's crush wounds that are the concern."

"Kay will make it. I, on the other hand, wouldn't be alive to talk to you now if that thing had rolled over me," Dinadan said.

"You _are_ a toothpick at that. At least compared to me," Kay said, smirking and giving a painful chuckle. He winced, groaning in pain.

"Do you have an idea how many bones were broken?" Hans asked in concern.

"I'm fairly sure a number of my ribs, probably a leg, but it isn't as bad as it could have been," Kay said. It could have been really, really gory. "Possibly cracked vertebrae?"

"That's a problem," Hans said. "You can't keep travelling in this condition. You need help."

"There's no going back now. The closest city to our location is the one we need to reach anyway," Kay said. "Then you will be able to board the final ship for home, and you'll make it alive as long as you don't look behind you, according to the faerie warnings that you mentioned."

Hans was quiet, looking down obviously conflicted. But Kay was right. The place they needed to be was the closest place where he could get help. Hans looked up, expression determined. "Fine."

"I'll carry him," Menw said. He looked at Kay. "I'll move slowly so you aren't jarred too much," he added. Kay nodded. Menw nodded back then took on the form of a horse. Carefully Kay was helped up onto his back, the camp was abandoned—most of it was unsalvageable anyway after the fires and the fight—and they headed out after making sure no flames would spread.


	11. In My Arms

.

In My Arms

(A/N: Here is the final chapter. Thank you for your reviews, ideas, and support of my series. I'm so glad that it seems well liked. I'm not wholly satisfied with this one, but it's better than it originally was for sure.)

The elves danced and sang in their faerie circle, their king watching over them and listening to the sounds of the forest. Suddenly the singing stopped and the elves became silent. The king's eyes drifted over them. They stared at the edge of the woods. He followed their gazes. Standing there was a hideous figure, anger and frustration radiating from its entire being. The king was silent. Upon realizing it had been spotted, the figure stepped into the fairy circle. The elves moved silently out of the way, glaring bitterly.

"Elfin King," the intruder greeted.

"Accursed hybrid," the elf king greeted disdainfully. "You have been causing strife, Carabis. You attempted to take the Snow Queen into your employ. She would have none of it, I presume?"

"No thanks to you," Carabis snarled.

"Hmm… It is better that tainted genes are passed no further. You are unstable enough both sprite and troll. Add humanity into the mix, well… It is best left unknown," the elf king said. "So yes. I intervened."

"Her sister will live," Carabis said.

"She will," the elf confirmed.

"Her husband's fate is still in the air," Carabis said.

"It is," the elf answered, picking up a stemless wineglass of crystal and bringing it to his lips.

Silence. "He is being aided. By fairies. By ancient knights that should not be…" Carabis said. The king was still. The elf at his back straightened up ever so slightly. Rapidly. "They have rescued him. For now. But Mor'du will find them. He will kill them all." The elf who had straightened quickly up advanced a step. The king raised his free hand, stopping said elf who was reluctant to pause but did nonetheless. "Shall I say their names?" Carabis asked.

"Hold your tongue," the elf king warned.

"Speak their names," the elf at the king's back stated quickly and sharply.

Carabis smirked. "King Lot of Lothian and Orkney, Emperor Alisander le Ophelin of the Byzantine Empire, Prince Hoel of Britanny, Sir Kay le Seneschal, Sir Dinadan, and Sir Menw… And with them the child. Sir Mordred…" Both the king and the elf at his side were silent. "They battle him as we speak," Carabis added.

"And if you think that they will not fend him off, you are delusional," the elf king answered. Carabis opened his mouth to reply, smugly smirking, but almost immediately it slammed shut and he looked startled, the smug smirk vanishing to shock. "At what point did you forget who those men were?" the elf king pressed, guessing as to what the reaction meant. Mor'du had failed. Carabis' jaw twitched and he shifted uncomfortably. "They cannot defeat Mor'du, that much is true; but they will conquer him, and they will bring the young prince safely through to his destination. From then on it will be up to Hans. That is when you might make your assault against him to attempt to doom him. But for now, Prince Hans is in the company of the Knights of the Round Table. He will not be harried long." Silence. "You sense your ally has lost… Will you now go after them for yourself? Surely you are more powerful than Mor'du? Or do you cower to him still?" Silence. "You are right to cower," the elf king finally said. "You pretend this game is yours to play, but really it is his, isn't it?" Silence. "Now quit the company of my people or remain and join if you will, you are fae in the end after all, but you will gloat no further to me of things you cannot gloat over."

"I will move against the queen again," Carabis said.

"I know you will," the elf king replied. "And she will fend you off again. And again. And again. She will not be made into your play thing."

"Parents will do many things they did not think they would for the sake of their children," the wicked troll sinisterly said.

"Hmm… That much is true," the elf king replied. "Good luck to you in claiming the infant." Carabis scoffed in disgust and anger, turning on his heel and marching angrily away before sprouting wings and flittering into the sky angrily.

Frozen

The elves watched after him and looked questioningly at the king. "Continue your merriment. The danger is passed," the elf king stated. After a few reluctant moments they began to get into good cheer again. The king remained still, the elf at his side silent as well.

"What was his intent here?" the second elf asked.

"Revenge," the king answered.

"Has he taken it?" the second elf asked.

The king was silent. "That depends on _you_," he finally answered.

There was quiet between them. "Did he speak truth? Are they… are they here?" the elf asked in a longing and hopeful whisper. Silence. "Why didn't you tell me?" the elf asked, sounding hurt. Silence. "How long have you known they were alive…?" Silence. "How long has… has Mordred been alive…?" Silence. There was a long pause. "Answer me!" the second elf suddenly and angrily shouted. All eyes went quickly to the two immediately. The king was still. Finally, he rose from the throne and walked into the woods, leaving his people to their merry making. The other immediately followed. "Answer me, damn you!" the elf demanded of the king when they were a fair enough distance away that the others would not see the fight that was about to break out if he didn't start getting answers soon. And likely even if he did.

The king stopped and was still. After a moment he turned. "Seven years," he answered. "From infancy… That is how long the boy has lived…" The other elf looked as if he'd been struck, eyes filling with pain and guilt and grief. Silence. Always silence. "It is not as if this is the first time that I have hidden his existence from you," the king finally said.

"Those other times you had reason to," the elf whispered. "What was your excuse _this_ time?"

"The same… But things did not play out as they should have… In that sense I have kept him hidden from you only months," the king replied.

"And the others?" the elf demanded.

"Weeks," the king answered. The other was stunned, trying to comprehend these words. "Would you suffer losing them again?" the king finally asked.

The elf looked quickly back at the king, staring at him in surprise. The king said nothing more, just waited for an answer. "I'm going to them," was what the answer was. "And even if they should die again, at least for a little while I stood with them once more…" The elf turned, walking quickly away.

"Selices!" the king called out gently after him. The elf paused. "I cannot lose you."

The elf, Selices, was silent. "Never did I leave you to go to the elfin lands where you could not see me. I did not leave you in death, at least not true death. Trust that I will not leave you now, like the others did. Please… But I must go to them… Tell me where they are."

The king was silent. "They are in Orkney, in the long-abandoned ruins of a once great castle… Lot's great castle…"

Selices started off again before pausing once more. He turned. "Please understand, ada. I am and will always be a Knight of the Round Table. As much as I am elf, I am of Arthur's court, and they were and are and will always be my brothers."

"I understand more than you believe I do," the elf king answered. "Go. Be safe… Return to me again. Alive… However much grief your decision brings, know that I will still be here to comfort and assure you."

"Thank you… ada," Selices replied. With that he left, and this time he wasn't stopped. The elfin king watched after him in silence and closed his eyes tight.

Frozen

Carabis lingered outside of the queen's window, perched on the sill staring in. The child in her womb could still be cursed… It could still be his leverage. _"Stay away from her,"_ a voice like tinkling ice said. He growled, turning. There, perched nearby on the ledge, was the Ice Maiden. The troll felt suddenly dizzy and off-balance, almost falling. Vertigo, he knew immediately. He glanced over. The second nature entity was hunched there watching him. _"You will not damn the child in her womb,"_ the Ice Maiden said.

_"__While her husband is gone, we will be there to help her fend you off,"_ Vertigo added. _"Be gone, Carabis."_

Elsa began to stir, which meant the Ice Maiden may be warning her of the threat. Vertigo vanished. So did the maiden. Carabis looked sharply back. Elsa was awake now, staring at him in horror and shock. She shouted for her guards, rising from her bed and preparing to attack him with her magic. He snarled and quickly made his getaway before she could attack. She ran to the window and watched after him darkly. He had to bide his time, he knew. Just bide his time. Eventually he would find the opportunity to strike in whatever way may be convenient.

Frozen

Hans stared at the dock looking overwhelmed. He looked back at the knights. Kay was still riding on Menw's back. "I'll lead you to a place of healing where you can be taken care of," Hans said to Kay. "Then I'll go on my way and finally return home… Thank you… For helping me escape."

"We live for questing," Dinadan replied with a smile, brushing it off. "It was mostly the fairies anyway. What did _we_ do, really? Pick you up out of the ocean and play escorts for a while. Fight through a few guards and a killer bear. Just another day in the life, you know?"

"No, I really don't. As much adventure as I've had in my life, it's pales in comparison to the likes of you. Thank you anyway, even if you don't think it was a big deal, because if you hadn't been there I would _not_ be going home," Hans answered. "Not alive, anyway."

"You're welcome," Lot answered. "Now let's get Kay the help he needs."

Hans waited until Kay was settled into a hospital. When he was, the prince subtly slipped out hoping not to be noticed by the knights. Particularly not Mordred who he just couldn't deal with right now. He was probably foolish for thinking he'd slip away unseen, as evidenced by the fact that in only a few moments a cat was suddenly trotting along at his feet. "You don't have to come with me anymore. I'm almost home," Hans said.

"My intention was to visit your brother on the Isles anyway. Arendelle will simply be a stopover," the cat said as it started to take on a human form and in seconds was Menw.

"Did anyone else see me leave?" Hans asked.

"Probably. No one mentioned it for the sake of keeping Mordred as oblivious as he can be," Menw answered. "Besides, extra insurance you'll make it home can only benefit you. If the Scots are still in pursuit, and they likely are, you'll need an extra blade at your side." Hans nodded, seeing the practicality in that. They reached the docks in not too long and Hans booked passage for them on the next ship leaving for Arendelle. It would depart in only half an hour, so they would be wise to make for it immediately.

In short order they were on board, settling in for the voyage. Hans sighed in relief and almost looked back before stopping himself from doing so. "I want to go home as soon as possible," he said, massaging his forehead.

"How are you faring?" Menw asked.

"Better than I was," Hans replied. "Facing down your execution isn't pleasant. I've done it a few times now, and it never gets better. Ever. This time it was worse because…" He trailed off.

"Because you had something to live for," Menw finished for him. "You never have before."

Hans was quiet. "No… I haven't," he admitted. There was silence between them, though it wasn't an awkward silence. Menw had a very companionable way about him that was a bit unique, Hans thought. Hard to describe what he meant by that. Sort of like a dog, as strange as that might sound. The ship eventually began to pull away from the docks, Menw and Hans watching out over the water quietly.

Menw heard footsteps and turned with a guarded frown. He started. "Alisander," he said in surprise.

Hans followed his gaze curiously. "What are you doing here?" the prince asked.

"I'm going with you. I want to see my wife," Alexander replied. "She won't come to me, so I'll go to her."

"Of course she would have gone to you, Alex," Menw said.

"No. Not for a long, long time," he replied.

"Why would you think that?" Hans asked.

"Clegis," Alexander simply answered. Hans gave Menw a questioning look.

"Their son," Menw said. "The looks of his father, the speech of his mother. He isn't here…"

"To look at me would bring her pain, to hear her speak would bring _me_ pain, but it's best to experience pain together when all is said and done. So, I won't let her try and cope alone and psych herself up for a long journey she can't bring herself to make right now. I'm in a position where I _can_. In fact, my hand is all but forced to," Alisander said. Hans nodded, choosing not to press.

"I'm glad for your company, brother," Menw said, placing a hand on the other's shoulder. "We both are, I venture to say."

"The more blades the merrier. As long as your baby brother-in-law didn't tag along too," Hans said.

"He didn't," Alexander said, grimacing. "I was sure of it this time." Hans nodded. He'd take the man's word for it.

Frozen

The trip seemed to drag on for Hans, who couldn't wait to get home. The sea was calm, the currents and winds favorable, and frankly they couldn't have asked for better conditions so of course that meant something inevitably had to go horribly, horribly wrong. Bullets riddled the merchant ship and canon fire rang out as the Scottish pursuers caught up. Merchants were shouting in fear and quickly trying to retreat to where it was safe, leaving the fighters on board to do their jobs and defend the ship from pillaging. Except the ship assailing them wasn't a pirate ship and wasn't looking for a good haul. Just Hans.

The ship shook as a canon took off part of a railing, causing Hans to shout in alarm, barely being missed by it. "Damn the Scots to hell!" he shouted angrily.

"Hey! Watch it. Some of our best friends were Scottish," Alexander snapped back.

"Damn the Scots!" Hans defiantly shouted again.

"You're part Scottish," Alexander bit, focusing on tossing over heavy items so that the ship would move faster and get ahead of the barrage.

"Screw the Scottish part of me! I claim Danish," Hans said.

"Because they're so much better?" Alexander sarcastically sneered.

"Damn the Greeks too and all their perversions!" Hans snapped.

Alisander started, looking offended, and scowled angrily. "Back off!" he shouted.

"How many animals have you slept with?" Menw asked with a slightly cruel and taunting smile.

"Just you," Alisander sneered at him. Hans, in the middle of lining up a shot, paused and blinked blankly. He looked over at the two of them in shock. Alexander looked mortified by what he'd said. Menw looked stunned. "It was a drunken cuddle session in the dark! I thought he was Soredamer!" the once-emperor instantly rushed to clarify. "I exaggerated with the sleeping part!"

"She walked in on us curled up together in bed," Menw began.

"Clothed!" Alexander exclaimed.

"I was basically his teddy bear. It was awkward to explain. And hilarious," Menw said, smirking. "I didn't find anything strange or sexual about it."

"Because there _wasn't_ anything strange or sexual about it!" Alexander insisted.

"Despite the fact you thought I was your wife?" Menw asked.

"Shut. Up," Alexander growled, glaring at him.

Hans blinked blankly at them, frowned, then turned back to his shot. "Okay, I believe you. Touchy, touchy," he replied before firing. The helmsman fell with a cry of pain, clutching his shoulder. Hans wasn't shooting to kill, just maim and slow.

"He's touchy because Lot lost it on him when he learned about the incident, and began hurling out false accusations probably partially hoping to convince Soredamer to leave his sorry backside for someone more to Lot's liking," Menw said. "Lot never let that go until the day he died."

"Probably a good thing he isn't here now then," Hans replied. He began to fire at the sails of the opposing ship for good measure, so the wind wouldn't be nearly as effective in propelling the boat along. They began to pull ahead, but the Scottish ship stayed on their tails closely, bullets soaring and the one canon still lined up to them firing. They would ultimately get away, Hans hoped, but it was still bad! To _get_ away they had to last long enough to _pull_ away.

Hans started to turn his head to check their progress. "Don't look back," Menw warned. Hans looked over at him worriedly, then set his eyes in front of them once more. He flinched when a bullet whistled passed his face. And he was fairly certain he felt death behind him again…

Frozen

"Find that troll! Search for him in every nook and cranny you can think of and do whatever you have to, to ensure he stays gone!" Elsa barked furiously, marching through the halls of her palace followed by guards, her eyes blazing furiously.

"Elsa, you'll send them to their deaths!" Soredamer immediately protested. "They cannot confront the fae!"

Elsa frowned. "Track him and let me know where he is," she rectified. "Do _not_ engage." She could practically feel the relief washing over the soldiers. "Go. Now! As quickly as you can." Immediately they moved passed her to go and start the search. Elsa was shaking in barely concealed rage. "He looked in on me in my room," she said. "Gods know what he wanted to do?!"

"He didn't come, he fled. It's alright," Soredamer said.

"That he could even get so close, that he would dare…" Elsa began. She cried out in pain, suddenly, doubling over and wrapping her hands around her belly.

"Elsa?" Soredamer asked in concern. Elsa was starting to pant.

"Oh no. No, no, no," Elsa said, almost whimpering. "Not now. Not now! It's too-too early."

"Shh, shh, it's alright. False labor, that's all. It happens," Soredamer soothed. "The baby isn't coming yet, it isn't coming. I had them too." Elsa did whimper this time, nodding frantically. Eventually the pain stopped and she let out a breath, straightening up again looking miserable. "He'll be there for the birth of your child," Soredamer soothed gently. "He'll be here."

"What if the elf king lied? What if he didn't survive the clause of the contract?" Elsa asked.

"He'll be here," Soredamer repeated. Elsa sniffed, covering her eyes with a hand and drawing said hand down her face, pausing over her mouth and willing back tears. "He'll be here," Soredamer repeated reassuringly.

Frozen

The merchant ship was taking heavy fire. It couldn't get away! The deck was burning, people shouting and frantically trying to put the fires out while staying alive, assailed by the barrage of bullets from the pursuing Scottish ship. "They're firing on a British ship! They've lost their minds!" Hans shouted to Menw and Alexander.

Menw was seriously debating shape-shifting into a sea monster and ending this once and for all, but he didn't relish wearing that much blood on his hands. The men were just following orders… "I can end this," he finally said.

"You don't have to wear that, Menw," Alisander said, looking at him. "Shape-shift into a sea beast, we'll throw tow ropes to you, and you become this ship's power and get us away from them."

"It's a plan. Go," Hans said. Menw gave him an annoyed look then ran to the bow of the ship and dove overboard. In only moments he rose above the waves once more, a giant sea-serpent! Hans and Alisander ran to ropes on separate sides of the boat, grabbing them up and throwing them over the edge as the merchants and assailers all gaped in shock at the beast that had risen from the sea. Menw snatched the ropes and began to swim, jerking the ship forward. The men shouted out in pain and alarm, falling to the deck and starting to mutter among each other in fear, staring at it. Hans and Alexander hung onto the railings, Hans' teeth gritted. Alisander looked like he was having the time of his life, grinning in excitement; which low-key bugged the young prince to no end. He told himself it was probably a by-product of, you know, being one of the Knights of the Round Table and questing on a regular basis. This was probably just another day to the once-emperor, but it was life and death to Hans. It ticked him off that Alexander seemed oblivious to that.

"The ship is sinking!" an alarmed voice shouted in terror. "She's going down!"

Alexander and Hans started, looking over at the man who'd called it out in shock. Alisander cursed and turned to Menw. "Menw, we're sinking!" he shouted.

Menw growled in response but kept going. "Down into the bowels! Start bailing!" Hans shouted at the men. "At least we might stay afloat a little longer!" But this all in all? It didn't look good.

Frozen

Suddenly there was an echoing growl over the ocean in the distance. Menw froze. Everything went quiet, even the pursuing Scottish ship. Suddenly a form began to appear out of the water far away. And get bigger, and bigger, and bigger… And began to rise… Their lips started to part in shock and awe as out from the sea lifted the massive head of a massive, massive, serpent. "Oh. My. Gods," Alexander said, eyes bugged wide. The thing took up the whole sea as far as they could see almost! And it was just its head!

"Jormangundr," Hans said numbly. Alexander looked quickly over. "The-the world serpent. A son of the trickster god Loki," he explained. "And I think we ticked him off!"

It looked over at them and roared, the wind escaping its mouth so powerful it almost capsized the ships! And this was probably barely a growl to it. Some men began toppling overboard. Menw released the ship, hero-mode kicking in. He immediately dove to rescue those of the Scottish and Merchant ships, getting them onto his back. They were horrified at their predicaments, but it was that or certain death by drowning, so they determined to take their chances with the freaky shapeshifting whatever.

"Why would he come _here_ specifically? _Where_ did he come from?!" Alisander shouted at Hans.

"I don't know! I thought I got along with Loki okay," Hans defended. Alexander looked at him in disbelief. "What?!" Hans demanded. "It was a onetime thing!"

Alexander looked quickly over at the serpent, its eyes narrowed like slits. "Then I hope you really _did_ make an impression on him, or that thing's not here with friendly intent," the once-emperor said.

"I didn't look back, I swear to the gods I didn't look back!" Hans exclaimed in terror, backing fearfully away from the railing to join Alexander as suddenly the beast threw its head up high, towering over the two dwarfed ships! "Shi…!" Hans began before suddenly the thing's head lowered towards him and his voice failed him. He went white, staring at it in horror. It was at eye-level. Hans's whole body fit in the reflection of one eye! Both _ships_ did, but it was Hans the eye was on. Hans gawked at it in horror. It scanned him silently before sniffing at him. Hans was utterly still. It growled darkly, then suddenly the very tip of its tongue flicked out, almost lifting Hans from the ground when it licked at him. It almost gave him a heart-attack before he realized the thing wasn't trying to eat him. He blinked blankly. Wait, what? The creature stared. It almost seemed to be… smiling? Had it learned of his interaction with Loki and been pleased? It's… tail tip began to flick. From like, right beside the ship. The _other_ side of the ship. And it flicked like it was wagging.

"What. The actual. Hell?" Alexander asked, approaching Hans cautiously. The serpent hissed darkly at him and he froze, stepping back quickly. The serpent glared, then focused on Hans again.

"Good… sea snake?" Hans squeaked out, shakily reaching out and scratching the massive nose. The snake seemed to groan in pleasure, closing its eyes in a pleased manner as Hans scratched, then summed the prince up and looked darkly towards the Scottish ship. "No, bad sea snake, no!" Hans shouted when it began to reach out towards them with jaws opening wide like it was going to devour the thing whole. Menw reacted, immediately shapeshifting into a much larger sea serpent. Still dwarfed by the world snake, but massive nonetheless. Enough that it would cause extreme pain and discomfort if he should, say, try to eat through Jormangundr's eye or chew his way out of the stomach if this thing ate him. He roared at Jormangundr and immediately blocked off access to the two ships by surrounding them both. Much like Jormangundr was surrounding the world. Jormangundr stared at Menw in surprise. Hans breathed a sigh of relief and watched with baited breath. It almost seemed like… somehow the two were communicating? It was hard to tell. Eventually, though, Jormangundr gave another roar that was probably a quiet growl to it, returned to Hans, licked him once more—at least he assumed it was a lick? Either way it soaked him, to his disgust—and disappeared under the waves again.

"What. The actual. Hell?" Alexander asked again after a moment.

"Well, the Scottish are retreating I guess?" Hans said nervously, noticing the ship turning tail and getting out of there the second Menw deposited the sailors who'd fallen overboard back onto it. Menw deposited the remainder of the sailors then joined them looking immensely relieved.

"What happened?!" Alisander demanded, freaked out.

"Let's not go into it," Menw replied, grimacing. "Long story short, I convinced it to give them another chance because Hans wouldn't want them to suffer such a horrible fate…"

"Want to bet?" Hans asked.

Menw frowned. "When they had families to go home to," he finished dryly.

Hans started then looked instantly guilty. "For future reference, I hate having my own words turned on me," he finally, and dryly, stated. "Now how about you get us to shore as soon as possible before this miserable ship sinks? The sooner we board a new one, the sooner I go home." Menw nodded and dove overboard again, transforming once more.

Frozen

Hans didn't know by what miracle he was here now, staring desperately towards the approaching shores of Arendelle. When they had stopped to switch ships, he'd sent Menw ahead with a letter. Menw hadn't returned, so the odds were he was waiting there or had left for the Southern Isles already. The letter the shape shifter had delivered for him had contained only three simple words.

_I'm coming home._

And now there it was. Home. Arendelle. Looming right ahead of him. He couldn't feel death over his shoulder anymore, but looking back was the last thing he intended to do. _She_ was ahead of him…

Elsa stood on the docks watching frantically. All at once it was there. The unscheduled ship, slipping over the horizon. She gasped, covering her mouth with both her hands, tears burning her eyes. It was there. Nearer, nearer, she couldn't wait anymore. She couldn't wait. She ran to the edge of the dock and leapt off of it into the ocean. Rather, onto. The water froze beneath her footsteps as she ran, the sea calm and therefore without the hazard of the waves. She raced over the ocean towards him. He saw her coming and perked immediately up, eyes widening in hope and desperation as she crossed the waters to reach him. His heart began pounding out of his chest. The second she was close enough, he leapt from the ship plunging into the ocean and swimming towards her desperately. She sent her ice ahead of her and he clambered quickly up onto it, running towards her. She threw herself into his arms and he fell backwards onto the ice clinging to her desperately. Her lips were covering his, kissing frantically, desperately, passionately. The reunion was escalating quickly and suddenly she shelled them off from prying eyes, shading them from everything. No one needed to wonder what happened in that icy dome she had formed…

Frozen

She sat in his lap unclothed, pressed close to him and clinging to his open shirt as he held onto her tightly in turn, forehead resting on hers. She had told him of all that had happened; of Carabis' arrival, of the bargain he'd tried to strike, of Anna's illness, of her desperation and almost falling into his scheme for which she felt completely guilty, though he assured her a million times over it wasn't her fault. And secretly swore to himself up and down that he would dismantle that troll piece by piece when he finally caught him. She told him of the deal she had made with the elf king, and of the clauses… Then she had told him of the price, and he had lost all words. What could even be said to that? It was signed, sealed, and delivered, there was no going back, and there was nothing they could do to change that… It terrified him. Wondering who the two lives taken in his and Anna's place would be and not being able to do anything about it. All he could do was hold her close, being her comfort and having her be his.

Eventually they had made their way back to the shore, the Snow Queen and the Fire King, walking hand-in-hand. The ship was docked. Hans checked for Alexander upon reaching it. He wasn't there, which meant odds were he was already heading towards the castle. He told Elsa as much. She just hummed, nodding and continuing to lean on his shoulder. He felt a wave of content and relief wash over him and rested his head on hers, walking with her like that all the way back to the palace.

Frozen

Soredamer walked through the palace gardens, willing herself to prepare for a journey to Orkney and see her father and brother and husband again. But it was hard, and she wished so desperately it wasn't, but it was. As she walked, she suddenly paused. Standing ahead of her, in the distance near a fountain, was the figure of a man. She wasn't sure why seeing that man stopped her in place, but it had. She frowned a bit curiously, squinting ahead. She began to approach once more, though slowly. As she did, she suddenly stopped. That figure… It was familiar. _So_ familiar… Her eyes slowly widened, an overwhelmed expression starting to cross her expression. The man turned to her and her heart skipped a beat. She gasped, covering her mouth and shaking her head, tears burning her eyes. She brought her other hand to her mouth as well. He didn't wait. He immediately began to cross towards her. Her knees felt weak, but she stayed up. She reached out her hands and in seconds he had caught them, pulling her close and resting her hands on his chest, covering them firmly. She sobbed and sniffed, looking down and leaning her head against his chest. He closed his eyes, relishing her nearness. Neither of them needed to say one another's names.

_Alexander…_

She sniffed again and looked up. "I was going to come," she said with a sob. His eyes were still shut. "I just-I needed…"

"I know," he murmured to her, cutting her off before she could try to make excuses she didn't need to make. He understood. He had felt it too.

"What a time it was arriving," she said with a watery laugh.

"Tell me everything," he said, grinning and willing his tears not to slip from his eyes. She sniffed again, leaning against him once more. She wanted to have him like this, overjoyed and gleeful, a little longer before she told him what had nearly been done to her upon her arrival. The moment she confessed, she knew that he would suddenly be a lot less pleasant to be around. First she would secure a promise from him not to act out, choosing her words carefully so as not to arouse his suspicions as to how bad it had almost been. Bound by a promise, he wouldn't go on a rampage and start a manhunt on another ruler's soil.

"Let's go for a walk," she said. "In the forest." The farther from the palace he was, the better.

"Is Menw here still?" he asked.

"He is. He's perhaps watching as we speak. Goodness knows what form he's taken," she answered, grinning gently. "Maybe he'll follow us, and if he does that will be alright. I've missed all of you." He nodded, grasping her hand firmly, and began walking with her. She guided him to the woods feeling obscenely happy. In not long, a fox was following them on their walk, hanging back in the underbrush so as not to intrude on their togetherness.

Frozen

The fox watched on in silence from the bushes as Alisander and Soredamer were in conversation. Said conversation had taken a sharp and testy turn. She had told him of what had befallen her here upon her arrival. It hadn't gone over well. Menw was none too impressed either, glaring through his fox eyes blatantly perturbed.

_"__Do you remember?"_ a voice asked from behind. Fox Menw cocked his ears and turned quickly around, standing up. That voice… it was familiar. That voice… It was…

Menw's eyes slowly widened. Immediately he took on a human form and began looking around frantically. "Speak again," he said, tone overwhelmed.

_"__Remember me,"_ the voice replied.

"Oh my… Alexander? Alexander!" he shouted. Alisander, in the middle of battling it out with Soredamer, turned quickly towards where Menw was. Soredamer looked concerned.

"Menw? What's wrong?!" Alexander called out

"Just come!" Menw shouted. Alisander looked at Soredamer in concern, squeezed her hand, then went to investigate. She watched worriedly after him. In short order, Alexander was there. "Listen," Menw said. Alisander was quiet, listening. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be listening for, but Menw wasn't the sort to hear things or exaggerate. If he had heard something, something was out there.

_"__Remember me,"_ the voice said again.

Alexander started, suddenly looking shocked and quickly becoming desperate and overwhelmed. He stepped forward. "Say it again!" he called out. "Brother, let us hear your voice again!"

_"__Do you remember?"_ the voice asked again, closer.

"How could you even ask?" Menw asked, voice wavering. "Selices… Selices! Show yourself, please! Selices!"

The figure stepped from out of hiding and Menw gave a strangled cry. Alexander felt tears burning his eyes. He shook his head, mouth quivering, then sobbed, running to the elf and throwing his arms around him. Selices clung to him just as desperately, tears escaping his eyes. Menw raced forward as well and Selices embraced him too before kissing them both, holding them like he wasn't going to let go again. "You lived," Alexander choked out. "You lived."

"As did Mabon," Selices replied in a murmur.

"Has he not yet sensed us?" Menw whispered.

"He will soon enough," Selices promised. "And when he does, he will seek you as quickly as I did the moment I knew… Where have you hidden?"

"In the ruins of Lot's castle. And there you will join us anew, won't you?" Alisander asked.

"Only death will take you from me," Selices promised.

"Why would you put yourself through such pain again?" Alisander asked.

"Because my love for you, brothers, is stronger than fear of mourning," Selices replied. Soredamer appeared quietly and caught her breath on seeing him. He looked over at her and offered a smile, nodding an acknowledgement. Tears burning her eyes, she nodded back and let out a watery laugh, grinning.

Frozen

Elsa held his head pressed against her stomach, leaning over him and pressing kisses to his hair as he stayed there listening to her stomach with eyes closed, relishing the feel and the movements and the sound of the tiny heartbeat barely audible but audible nonetheless. He also relished in the feeling of her fingers combing through his hair and her lips decorating it. "Never leave again," she whispered to him.

"I'll never leave again," he promised her.

"You say that, but you _really_ mean you'll never leave again as far as it can be helped," she said.

"I'll _never_ leave again," he repeated.

"For a few years at least," she said. She wouldn't bind him to a promise he couldn't keep. "And not counting rides and pleasure sails and hunting," she added, grinning a bit.

"I can hardly be housebound anymore than you can be," he relented with a chuckle. Her 'out and about', though, would probably extend to the village if that. Perhaps even only the gardens, if she was playing it really safe. "Only a little longer," he whispered to her. She bent once more, pressing her lips to his hair for a final time before laying back in bed and letting him rest there on her stomach as her fingers continued combing soothingly through his hair.

_Only a little longer…_

She fell asleep, a smile on her lips.

* * *

**Final A/N:** And end chapter. The appearance of the world snake was actually a reviewer's idea, so I hope I pulled it off to satisfaction. Thank you all again for your support of this story.

I've extended this invitation before in my Kim Possible series, so I'll restate it here. If anyone wants, my ideas, worlds, and canons are open source. If anyone wants to use them in their own stories, or even play off this series/unofficially add to it, go for it. Just let me know so I can read them too for the pleasure of it.


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